


Inevitable [Drarry]

by violenttulips



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, F/M, Healer Draco Malfoy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 63,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24929929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violenttulips/pseuds/violenttulips
Summary: After the war, Harry Potter becomes a talented Senior Auror with a penchant for injury in defense of his colleagues.Draco Malfoy leaves the country for five years and becomes an accomplished Specialty Healer. He comes back after he accepts a job at St. Mungo's Hospital.When they meet again, it's clear that Draco has changed significantly in the years since they attended Hogwarts together, and Harry finds himself strangely attracted to his former rival.But things never come easy for the Boy-Who-Lived, and that's not about to change now.*I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. This is a fan-fiction.Trigger Warnings:Smut is mild. (Clearly implied, but not explicit)MiscarriageViolenceReference to Previous Non-Con—NOT Drarry (Nonviolent and Not Explicit)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 33
Kudos: 356





	1. Prologue

The Malfoy trial was over quickly. Lucius was sentenced to life in Azkaban. Narcissa, one year of house arrest. As he had been an underage wizard under duress, Draco was not punished. He was, however, required to return to Hogwarts for his final year.

Which, Harry imagined, would probably be punishment enough. 

It was largely due to Harry's testimony that Draco and Narcissa were sentenced to such lax punishment. He'd told the Wizengamot about Draco hesitating when he could have killed Dumbledore—About how Voldemort had been threatening his family if he didn't complete the task. He told them about Draco pretending he didn't immediately recognize Harry, Hermione, and Ron when they were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor, when he obviously knew who they were after being in the same year at Hogwarts for six years. 

He told them that Narcissa had lied to Voldemort, telling him that Harry was dead when he was not, so that he was able to duel the Dark Lord once more and ultimately defeat him. 

Now the Malfoys were finally free from Voldemort and, despite everything, Harry wanted them to be able to be able to move forward with their lives. 

The hatred he'd once felt for Draco had faded away, leaving only compassion for the other boy. He was still so young—They both were. Draco may have been a school bully, but he wasn't a killer, and he hadn't deserved to suffer the way he had under Voldemort's thumb, practically a prisoner in his own home. 

Harry watched the small family as they said their goodbyes, and Lucius was led away. Draco's lower lip quivered and Harry felt a twinge of sympathy. Narcissa was stone faced as she watched her husband leave the room between two Aurors. 

Then, Harry remembered what he needed to do. He took a deep breath, bracing himself, before approaching the mother and son, who were now speaking with a wizard about the specifics of Narcissa's house arrest. Harry glanced up at the bench and made eye contact with the newly appointed Minister of Magic and leader of the Wizengamot, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Kingsley smiled warmly at Harry and nodded, encouraging him. 

Harry walked up to the Malfoys and waited for their conversation to finish, then awkwardly cleared his throat. Narcissa ignored him and asked the Auror in charge of her house arrest another question about the terms, but Draco turned his grey eyes on Harry, watching him apprehensively. 

"What do you want, Potter?"

"Malfoy. I just—I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Draco raised an eyebrow. 

"About everything. I'm sorry for sectumsempra last year, I didn't know what that spell would do to you and I wish I hadn't done it and I'm sorry about your dad and—" Harry paused for a moment, he knew he was babbling, "—And I'm sorry I took your wand." 

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the hawthorn wand, offering it to him handle-first. "I was hoping to get a chance to return it to you today." 

Draco reached out and took his wand, relief washing over his face. 

"Thanks, Potter." 

Harry held out his hand and Draco stared at it, suspicious once more. "I'm not sure when we'll see each other again, but when we do, I hope we can be friends."

"Friends," Draco parroted, staring at Harry again, his expression impassive. "You're not coming back to Hogwarts." It wasn't a question. 

"No, Kingsley offered me a position in the next group of auror academy students and I decided to take it. I don't think I could go back to Hogwarts after..." Harry winced and shook his head.

Draco nodded, understanding, then shrugged and shook Harry's hand quickly. 

"See you around then, Potter." Draco turned away from him, while Harry turned to look at Narcissa, who had watched the end of their exchange. 

"Thanks—For lying to Voldemort. For saving me." Narcissa Malfoy nodded, acknowledging him, but said nothing. She put a hand on Draco's shoulder and turned away as well. 

The Malfoys were done talking, and Harry thought it was just as well. He had said what he needed to say and returned Draco's wand. 

Now he could move forward and, he hoped, so could they.


	2. Mourning & Moving Forward

Draco stood in front of the Malfoy family crypt, facing the closed casket, feeling more lost and alone than he ever had in his life. 

The only other people there were the hired mortuary employees. _No one else will mourn Narcissa Malfoy,_ he thought bitterly.

Two years had passed since the end of the war, and all of the chaos and pain that had followed. Lucius was still serving a lifetime sentence in Azkaban, and Draco was secretly glad. His father was responsible for the Malfoy's involvement in the war. He chose to follow Voldemort before Draco had even been born, and where had following that psychopath gotten them? 

Sure, Potter's surprising testimony and adamant demand that their punishment be as lenient as possible had saved Draco and Narcissa from Azkaban, but they were still social pariahs, unwanted anywhere. They'd only had each other for the past two years, alone in that enormous, dreary old mansion that reeked of dark magic. 

And then his mother had gotten sick. 

He could still picture the look on the healer's face when he told Draco there was no hope for her. Healer Thomas was a kind old man, the only healer in the area willing to make a house call to the Manor. His mouth had twisted down as he delivered the news, his eyes filled with pity: All they could do was make her comfortable. 

"When I'm gone, you need to leave this place," Narcissa had begged Draco, "start a new life, forget the past, and find your peace, my love."

He had given her hand a gentle squeeze and managed to whisper, "I'll try. I love you, Mum." 

"And I love you, Draco."

His mother had smiled at him, then, and her face had relaxed as she fell asleep. 

She did not wake again. 

"Would you like to say something, Mr. Malfoy?" One of the men asked, interrupting Draco's thoughts and hurtling him back to the present. 

Draco nodded and stepped forward, placing a gloved hand on the casket. 

"Mum," his voice broke, and an icy tear trickled down his cheek, "I'm sorry."

He heard the tell-tale crack of a nearby apparation, but he ignored it.

"You were brave, and strong. You tried to shield me from the darkness for as long as you could—"

An outbreak of whispers broke out behind him. 

"Is that...?" 

"No. It can't be." 

"Why would _he_ come to the burial of a dark witch?" 

"And I know you loved me, and did your best to protect me, even lying to the Dark Lord at the end, so that we could have a better life after the war was over. I'll never—" Draco's voice shook, tears flowing freely now, "—never forget—"

A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder as he choked out the last few words, "I love you, Mum."

Draco turned and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Strong arms wrapped around him as he sobbed against a black wool coat, shaking and crying and fighting for each bitterly cold breath. He didn't care who it was, he just relished the feeling of being held while he finally allowed himself to lose control, letting violent sobs wrack his body.

After a few minutes he slowly regained his composure, taking slow, deep breaths as he calmed himself. Finally, Draco pulled away, wiping at his eyes with his gloved fingers, and found himself looking into emerald eyes shining behind round glasses. 

Draco took another step back. "Potter? What are you doing here?"

"Your mother saved my life. I wanted to pay my respects." 

"Saint Potter. How _very_ noble of you." Draco spat the words, but he could barely muster his usual venom. He was too tired, too sad, and all he really wanted was to collapse back into the warmth of Harry's arms. 

Harry was watching him through narrowed eyes. "I'm not trying to be noble, Malfoy. I'm trying to be kind."

"I don't need your kindness, or your pity." 

Harry sighed, clearly exasperated, but he forced himself to remain civil. "It's not pity either, I just—"

Draco glared at him, cutting off whatever he was going to say. 

Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair. "Listen, I didn't come alone." 

Harry nodded behind his shoulder. Draco turned and saw a witch standing a little ways off who bore a chilling resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange, but upon closer inspection, the differences were clear: Her dark eyes, which she was wiping tears from at the moment, had smile lines around them. Her hair was lighter, and her face was a bit rounder and infinitely more friendly. 

_Andromeda,_ Draco thought, _the aunt I've never met._

Harry gave her an encouraging smile, and she stepped forward. 

"Draco, I—I'm so sorry. For not reaching out, after the war, and for the loss of your mother." She hesitated before continuing. "Cissy and I were very close as children, and I'll always regret not making amends before—" She let out a sob, cutting off her words. 

Draco stared blankly at her.

"I would like to get to know you, if you're willing—" 

"No, thank you." 

Draco turned on his heel, stopping only briefly to address the mortuary owner. He pulled a bag of money out of his pocket. "Here is what we agreed upon, you may put her in now. Thank you for your service." He walked a few more steps, turned briefly to glance at them, then apparated away. 

Harry hugged Andromeda, letting her cry against his shoulder exactly as Draco had a few minutes earlier. 

They stayed until the crypt was closed and the mortuary workers had left. 

Finally spent, Andromeda took a shaky breath. "Why wouldn't he—? We're family, and we have almost no family left..." 

Harry shook his head. "I dunno, Andy. He's grieving. Maybe he'll change his mind after he's had some time."

He stared at the spot where Draco had disapparated from. Before disappearing, he had made eye contact with Harry one last time. Harry could still picture those stormy grey eyes, ringed with red, the slicked-back blond hair, cheeks flushed from tears and the cold... Draco had managed to stand tall, and yet, he had still looked completely shattered. 

Andromeda nodded, wiping at her eyes. "I'd better go pick up Teddy." 

"I can take him for the rest of the day, if you need some time." 

"Would you?"

"Of course, I'd be happy to watch him. I'll go pick him up at the Burrow." 

"Thank you, Harry. I'll come pick him up at your flat after dinner. Around 7? Would that be alright?" 

"That's perfect." 

Harry took a few steps back, then disapparated to the Burrow, leaving the snow-covered cemetery behind. 

••••• 

Meanwhile, back at his empty Manor, Draco collapsed onto his bed. 

Harry Potter had been trying to be kind to him, and he had responded by being a complete arse. 

_It's better this way,_ Draco told himself. _You can't have him, so it's better this way._

He'd repeated that thought to himself many times over the years. 

But he couldn't stop himself from remembering how it had felt to be held by him. Potter had smelled nice. He'd never worn cologne at school, but he seemed to have started sometime since. His hair had been as messy as ever, his eyes still strikingly green and full of heartbreaking empathy when they met Draco's. The coat that Draco had soaked with tears had also been surprisingly stylish, for muggle fashion, and maybe it's because it had been such a long time since _anyone_ had hugged him, but he felt a rush of warmth just thinking about it. He curled into a ball on the bed and began to sob, letting his grief wash over him once more.

••••• 

Years would pass before Draco saw Potter again, although he saw the occasional article in the newspaper or magazine. 

"Harry Potter single-handedly captures escaped Death Eaters: Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Rookwood, and Yaxley, putting him in position to become the youngest Senior Auror in a century!"

"He's Single, Witches! Harry Potter and Holyhead Harpies Star Chaser Ginny Weasley are over: They claim the split was amicable, but _was it?"_

"Harry Potter attends Quidditch game with godson, Teddy Lupin. Cheers unapologetically for ex-girlfriend Ginny Weasley. Is it really over?" 

Draco had been unable to resist chuckling at the photo of Harry beneath the last article. He'd thrown one hand up defensively and backed away from the camera, looking thoroughly harassed. His other hand held an adorable toddler with turquoise hair steady on his shoulder. The quote from the article was just so typical Potter: "Yes, it was amicable. No, neither of us cheated, we just decided we're better as friends. Yes, that's all there was to it. Yes, you might still see us together occasionally, seeing as we're _friends._ No I'm not dating anyone else at the moment. Of _course_ I still support the Harpies for the cup. No, I'm not giving up my box at the stadium. Now, _please_ leave me alone."

Shortly after the litany of articles "detailing" Potter's breakup were released, Draco's application to complete additional schooling at Ilvermorny was accepted. He'd taken his mother's advice, and after a few months of grieving, he made plans to leave Britain. 

He sold Malfoy Manor and donated most of the profits to St. Mungo's anonymously. He was already wealthy, and he liked the idea of using the money for something good. After all, it had been a long time since the Manor had felt like home. Certainly not since Voldemort had taken up residency there. Draco had no desire to return. 

Eight months after his mother's dismal funeral, Draco took an International portkey and landed in Massachusetts to continue his education. 

•••••

Harry truly did thrive as an Auror during that time. 

He rose quickly through their ranks, his physical strength and magical abilities proving to be second to none. 

His team of Aurors were responsible for capturing any death eaters who escaped during the war, and they were wildly successful. 

Harry's ability to perform nonverbal and wandless magic, honed during his Auror training and non-stop fieldwork in the years that followed, made him a veritable powerhouse in the field. His team reveled in the fear that his presence struck when he approached their targets, his magic crackling around him dangerously. 

After nearly all the escaped death eaters were captured, Harry's team was responsible for scattering and/or trapping the large groups of dementors that still plagued Britain after the war. Enraged that they were unable to return to Azkaban to feed on prisoners, they had begun attacking innocent victims. Harry made quick work of them, and striking photos of him and his stag patronus dominated the wizarding papers for weeks. 

That story even made the American papers, and Draco had nearly choked on his tea at breakfast. In the full-page photo, Potter was wearing fitted Auror robes. As the image moved, his hand would raise and his stag patronus would burst from his fingertips, rearing imposingly in front of him. 

The sight of his school crush looking so fierce and powerful, as well as extremely fit, made Draco's mouth run dry. He'd shifted in his seat, swallowing hard. His roommate, a french student in his graduate program named Andrè, had taken the paper from him and appraised it curiously. 

"Harry Potter? He is very attractive, no?"

Draco nodded in response. 

"Did you know him at school?"

"Oui." 

"Were you friends?" 

Draco laughed. "No." 

"Pity," Andrè had responded, giving Draco a knowing grin, "he is exquisite." 

Draco rolled his eyes, snatching back his newspaper. "You have a boyfriend."

"I can still look!" the other man joked, "besides, I meant for _you." ___

____

Draco arched a brow, "We're not, we would never... No, Andrè." 

____

"If you say so," Andrè responded, winking at him and leaving the room. 

____

Four more years would pass after that, with only the occasional news article about Potter in the American papers. Draco pointedly ignored Andrè and his American boyfriend (who eventually moved in with them) Kent's teasing, but he secretly kept the articles. 

____

Now, he was wrapping up his graduate work with top marks, and looking forward to going home to Britain in a few short months. He had applied for and been offered a job at St. Mungo's, and he was looking forward to starting his work as a Specialty Healer. 

____

His only remaining task was finding a place to live. He'd hoped that after several years away, perhaps the wizarding community in Britain might have softened toward him. Sadly, he was wrong. But after a month of searching, he found a suitable place that would take him. At an exorbitant rate, of course. 

____

Just two months shy of five years since his mother's funeral, Draco Malfoy was finally going home.

____


	3. St. Mungo’s Meeting

A now-twenty-five year old Harry Potter shivered against the cold, wrapping his cloak tightly around him as he trudged through the snow.

_Bloody Neo-Death Eaters. Had to hide in the Alps in February, didn't they, the sodding—_

Harry raised a finger, signaling his elite team of Aurors, who were fanned out behind him, to stop. He felt a familiar clenching sensation in his stomach. It was too quiet. Something was wrong.

They'd avoided doing magic on their trip into the mountains to keep from tripping any sensors, but Harry decided it was time for that to end.

He raised a second finger, "shields up."

Wands moved and twelve shields shimmered into place around each individual auror, and not a moment too soon.

With a several loud shouts, several spells shot towards them at once, coming at them from behind.

Harry spun around, wand in hand, viridian eyes blazing. He shouted instructions to his team as he parried spells from five Neo-Death Eaters at once. He distracted them by shooting a spell with his wand, then shot an _Incarcerous_ spell wandlessly using his left hand. Magical ropes bound them all tightly, arms pinned against their bodies. A nonverbal _expelliarmus_ sent their wands careening into his outstretched hand. 

A wave of exhaustion hit him from the exertion, and his shield flickered for only a moment, but it was long enough for a sixth NDE to hit him with a banishing spell from behind, sending him careening wildly through the air.

Harry felt the right side of his body collide with an enormous tree trunk with a thud and a sickening crunch, at least twenty feet off the ground. He groaned as the fingers of his free hand scratched at the bark, trying to find a handhold where there was none. He fell, willing his wand hand to move, or his wandless magic to catch him, but it was no use. The pain was making his mind hazy. He heard another horrific crunching sound as he hit the snowy ground, and pain coursed through his left leg. He let out a low scream of pain, then lifted his head and forced himself to focus.

Most of the NDE's were already subdued, his team was very good after all, but a few were still fighting. The Aurors were getting tired, and their shields were failing. Harry raised a hand and the shields all solidified, effectively bouncing spells away from the Aurors once more. Only when the last few NDE attackers were bound, did Harry stop the flow of magic protecting his friends and colleagues. Then, collapsing into the snow, exhaustion took him.

•••••

Harry's first sensation was pain, and he groaned as he slowly regained consciousness.

"Hello Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes and saw the blurry outline of a familiar face: Dorothy Hewitt, Assistant Healer.

"D'you have my glasses?"

A warm, slender hand pressed them into his palm. 

"Thanks, Dottie."

Her pretty face and brown ponytail came into focus. She was waving her wand, casting various diagnostic spells, but at the sound of her nickname she flushed, smiling shyly at him.

Harry looked around. He was in a St. Mungo's robe, his clothes were draped over an empty chair at the end of the bed, and his wand was resting on a table beside the bed.

"Of course. The healer should be in soon. I can't believe you're conscious already, you must be _exhausted!_ And we haven't even given you a pain potion yet, I'm so sorry Harry!"

"Did anyone else get hurt?" He spoke through gritted teeth, keenly aware of the pain from his injuries.

"No, the rest of your team is fine. You took quite the beating this time though, didn't you? From the diagnostics I can see... Several broken ribs, a broken leg— oh, broken in more than one place, ouch, and you need sleep, lots of it." 

Harry winced, it sounded as bad as he felt. "When will Healer Thomas be in with the pain potion?"

She looked at him sympathetically, "oh you poor _thing._ We're a bit understaffed today. Healer Thomas is out sick, so you'll be seen by our new specialty healer, Healer Mal—Oh! Here he is!"

Harry's eyes widened as his former arch-enemy walked into the room. "Malfoy?"

"Potter," Draco nodded curtly. He was holding a clipboard and a small vial of blue liquid that was very familiar to Harry. Pain-relief potion. _Finally_.

Draco walked over to the bed and waved his wand, casting his own diagnostic spells.

"Ouch," he drawled, "looks like your proclivity for injury hasn't lessened over the years. Here."

Harry took the potion gratefully, draining it in one gulp. He was caught off-guard by the friendly tone of Draco's voice, as well as the teasing glint in his eyes.

"No, some things don't change, I'm afraid," Harry managed. The pain was slowly lessening, allowing him to focus better.

Draco smiled, and it was as if his whole face lit up. Harry found his eyes drawn to it—they traveled over his iridescent grey eyes, his straight nose, his full lips and aristocratic, slightly angular features... Draco Malfoy had always been attractive, but now he was positively _dazzling_.

Draco looked down and began scribbling on a blank piece of parchment on the clip board. He responded without looking up.

"Hm, that _is_ unfortunate. From the looks of your chart, you spend quite a bit of time here. You're lucky you don't look like Mad-Eye Moody, at this rate."

Harry huffed out a surprised laugh. "Mad-Eye didn't believe in going to the hospital when he was injured. It's thanks to the good people here at St. Mungo's that I don't."

Dottie batted her eyelashes at him from behind Draco. "Oh Harry, you're _too_ kind."

Harry gave her an awkward smile, while Draco spun to face her, tearing the page off the clip board. "Hewitt, would you run down to the potions store room and grab a dose of each of these and take them to room 113 for Mrs. Martin? I'll meet you there in half an hour." 

"Of course, Healer." She hurried out of the room.

Draco turned back to Harry, setting the clip board on the bedside table. "I need to take a look at your injuries. Would you mind if I removed your robe?" 

"Sure," Harry suddenly felt self-conscious as Draco waved his wand and the robe disappeared, reappearing neatly folded at the end of the bed, leaving Harry in only his underwear—black boxer-briefs that left very little to the imagination.

"Lay back for me."

Harry tried to relax as Draco gently pressed on his ribs.

"So... How long have you worked here?"

Draco glanced up at his face, surprised by the question. "About three months. I don't usually work with incoming patients, though. I'm a Specialty Healer—more of a researcher, really. I'm just filling in tonight."

"Ah. So, how do you become a Specialty Healer?"

Harry arched slightly, a pang of discomfort running through him in spite of the pain-relief potion. 

"Sorry about that. They don't have Specialty Healer programs here, but they do have them in the States. I went to an Ilvermorny post-graduate program. I actually just got back—I accepted the job here a few months ago."

"Well, in that case, welcome home."

"Thanks, Potter. I'm ready to heal your broken bones. It's painful, even with a dose of pain-relief potion in your system. Will you be able to hold still?"

"Yes. I've done this before, unfortunately." Harry mentally steeled himself, grabbing a handful of the sheets in each hand.

"Alright, then... Episkey!"

One broken rib snapped back into place. Harry groaned in pain and clenched his eyes shut, but forced himself to remain still.

Two more ribs were magically fixed, and Harry was shaking and dripping with sweat from the exertion of forcing himself to stay still in spite of the blinding pain.

Draco stopped, placing a cool, gentle hand on his shoulder. "Let's take a break before fixing your leg. I know it can be—" 

Harry shook his head. "Just finish, Malfoy. Quickly. I can take it." 

The three breaks in his leg were snapped back into place as fast as Draco could get the words out. 

Harry screamed in agony, then slowly began to relax. He took several deep breaths as the pain slowly faded to a dull ache throughout his body. 

Draco stared at him, stricken. "Are you okay?" 

"I think so. Still enjoy torturing me after all these years, Malfoy?"

Draco grinned. "It's what I live for, Potter, you know that. And, lucky for me, your pain tolerance is surprisingly high. Most people would have passed out by now." 

Harry closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Draco's hand was still on his shoulder, grounding him, and Harry found himself hoping he would leave it there a little longer.

_What is wrong with me? It's Draco Malfoy, for Salazar's sake._

"How are you feeling now?" 

Harry opened his eyes and smiled. "Better, now that my bones are back where they should be. Thanks, Malfoy." 

"Hey, I'll torture you anytime, Potter."

Harry chuckled weakly, suddenly overcome by a wave of exhaustion. He yawned widely, his eyelids suddenly unbearably heavy. 

"Alright, Potter. Time to sleep."

Draco withdrew his hand and gave his wand another wave. Harry's hospital robe wrapped around him once more. Harry curled onto his side and buried his face in the pillow. Draco summoned a blanket from a nearby closet and draped it over him, then gently removed his glasses and set them on the bedside table.

Harry sighed, already drifting off. "Mm. Thanks, Draco."

Draco felt a wash of heat brush over his cheeks at the use of his first name. "Sleep now, I'll be back to check on you in a few hours." 

•••••

Draco stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaning against it.

Usually, he was unaffected by the sight of his patient's naked or nearly-naked bodies. 

But most of his patients were not _Harry_ _Potter_ , and most patients did not _look_ like Harry Potter.

 _Circe_ , Draco thought, _those chiseled abs_ _alone..._ He stopped himself, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Focus. This is unprofessional," he whispered before standing up straight and walking to his office on the fourth floor.


	4. Coffee & Confusion

Harry walked into his favorite cafe in Diagon Alley to pick up some breakfast and was greeted by the mouthwatering scent of roasting coffee and baked goods. Harry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. _Paradise_.

He was struck from behind without warning and stumbled forward, but he caught himself and spun around, wand raised.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see y— Whoa, Potter!" The blond raised his hands in surrender, grey eyes wide.

Harry relaxed and holstered his wand. "Sorry, Malfoy. Auror reflexes. You alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry I bumped into you, I was distracted. What brings you here?"

"Breakfast," Harry shrugged, "it's my day off, so I thought I'd go out. You?"

"Same. And this is the _only_ place in the area that makes good coffee."

Harry raised an eyebrow. " _You_ drink coffee?"

"I lived in the U.S. for five years. I'm afraid I developed a bit of an addiction."

Harry smiled. “Me too."

"Well, what's your excuse?"

Harry suddenly felt uneasy under Draco's scrutiny. "I didn't sleep well, after... Well. You know. I needed something to help me stay awake during the day. Coffee did the trick."

Draco looked unsure how to react to this revelation. "Are you sleeping better now?"

Harry couldn't meet his gaze. "Sometimes." This was an obviously lie, but Harry wasn't ready to admit that he still had nightmares about the war after seven years.

"Have you considered—"

"Excuse me. Are you two in line?" Draco was interrupted by a small, elderly witch, indicating the open counter in front of them. Harry gave her a winning smile, and she practically melted at the sight. "No, Ma'am, you go right on ahead."

"Oh! Thank you!" 

Harry turned back to Draco. "Let me buy you breakfast. To say thank you for healing me last week."

"I was just doing my job, Potter."

"I know, but still—I want to. Have breakfast with me. Please, Malfoy?" Harry directed that same toothy grin at Draco, and he was powerless against it.

"Alright."

Harry bought them both breakfast and they found a small table near a window and sat down.

Talking to Draco was surprisingly easy, now that they weren't constantly at each other's throats. His quick wit and dry humor made Harry laugh harder than he had in years.

They talked about quidditch, and about their jobs, and about various school mates from Hogwarts, but mostly they discussed their (admittedly) ridiculous feud in school.

"You stayed up _all night_ making those stupid badges instead of writing your Transfiguration essay and had to face McGonagall empty-handed the next day?" Harry wiped at tears from his eyes, his laughter finally dying down.

Draco's eyes sparkled with mirth. "It was terrifying. She took twenty points off Slytherin, but it was worth it." 

" _How?_ " Harry snickered.

_Because I got your attention for a minute,_ Draco thought.

He placed a hand on Harry's arm as he laughed. "I don't remember," he lied smoothly, "But it seemed worthwhile at the time. Maybe I should have showed her the badges and told her I was practicing Transfiguration."

Harry laughed again, tipping his head back. "Yes, I'm sure that would have gone over well."

Harry found himself disappointed when it was time to go their separate ways. He was grateful he had gotten up early to grab breakfast that morning, and went home feeling strangely elated.

•••••

Monday evening, Harry walked into his flat after work covered in mud; he was hungry, soaked, and bone-tired.

His boyfriend Geoffrey was sitting on the sofa. He looked up at him, his blue eyes flashing. He looked absolutely furious. "Seen today's paper yet, Harry?" 

Harry shrugged his sopping-wet coat off. "No, what's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, just a photo of you and Draco Malfoy on a _date_ on the front page."

"What?" Harry took the paper from him and stared at it. "Bloody hell, they're never going to leave me alone, are they? It wasn't a date, Geoff. It was just two old friends catching up over coffee."

"Old friends?" Geoffrey scoffed, "You and Malfoy have never been _friends._ Your rivalry and mutual hatred at Hogwarts was well-known, even by those of us in my year, two years behind you."

"Okay, well, I just ran into him Saturday morning. He was my healer at St. Mungo's when I was injured on that case last week. I bought him breakfast to thank him and we talked for a couple hours. It wasn't a date."

Geoffrey folded his arms and turned away. Harry walked over to him and put a hand on his arm. "It wasn't. We were just talking, I swear."

Geoffrey picked up the paper again and pointed at the picture. Harry had admit, it looked incriminating. Harry was laughing hard, his head tossed back. Draco was snickering into his mug, a playful smirk on his lips, his eyes glittering. As they laughed, one of his hands reached across the table to rest on Harry's arm. 

"We were laughing about what prats we were to each other back at school," Harry sighed, "it wasn't anything to worry about."

"And this?" Geoffrey pointed at Draco's hand on Harry's arm.

"Lasted only a second, and was not initiated by me. Come on Geoff, when have I ever given you reason not to trust me?"

"I trust _you_. I don't trust _him_. He wants you, he always has."

Harry's stomach did a little flip, but he tried to cover his reaction with a scoff. "You're joking. He does not. We've had two pleasant conversations with one another in our entire lives. We're barely friends."

"He does. Look at how he's looking at you."

Harry kissed his boyfriend's cheek. He pulled the paper from his hands and tossed it in the bin. "There's nothing there, Geoff. Can you please let this go? I'm drenched and I've barely eaten all day. I need a shower, and I'm knackered."

"Fine." The look on Geoff's face told Harry it wasn't fine, but he was too tired to care.

"I'm going to visit my Mum tonight. I picked up a coffee for you from that place you like on my way home. I'll be back after work tomorrow." 

"What? Geoff, why—?"

Geoff glared at him.

Harry sighed. "Fine. See you tomorrow." 

Geoff stalked out the door and slammed it behind him. 

Harry shook his head and headed for the bathroom to take a shower. He emerged in clean, dry clothes, feeling much better.

He warmed some leftovers from the fridge with a quick charm and grabbed the hot coffee off the kitchen counter. 

Before he sat down at the table, he reached into the wastebasket and pulled out the Daily Prophet. He gingerly unfolded it and laid it on the table beside his plate, examining the large picture of himself and Draco while he ate.

Looking at himself in the picture, Harry had to admit that he looked... Happier than he'd felt in a while. _When was the last time he'd laughed like that? Or been that comfortable talking to someone?_ The fact that it was Draco Malfoy had been a surprise, but, despite his denials to Geoffrey, there had definitely been something there. Something he'd never felt with Geoff, or possibly anyone. 

He turned his attention to Draco's face in the image. His smirk was different than Harry remembered—warm and friendly. He looked genuinely pleased to have made Harry laugh. _Was it possible? Could Geoff have been right about Draco having feelings for him?_ Harry shook his head. _No way, not possible._

Harry drained the last of his coffee and tossed it in the bin.

_It doesn't matter anyway, because I'm in love with Geoff. I don't want to be with Draco._

_You're still allowed to have friends,_ a rational voice in his head argued. 

_Not if it upsets Geoff. You love him._

_That's ridiculous, I can be friends with Malfoy._ That small, rational voice repeated. _Geoff will be fine._

Harry groaned and pressed his knuckles to his forehead. "Well, in terms of sanity, arguing with yourself is never a good sign," he muttered.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of three owls who fought their way through the open window and then flew to the table where they jockeyed for his attention.

"Whoa. Okay, hold on." Harry focused on his own spotted owl first. Henrietta carried a response from Hagrid, who Harry had written to a couple days before. Harry removed the parchment and stroked her lovely brown and white plumage. "Thanks, Hen. I'll get you a treat in a moment, alright?" She brushed her beak against his hand fondly, hooted softly, and flew to her perch to drink some water.

The second owl was a beautiful grey owl that Harry knew belonged to Ron and Hermione. Harry removed the scroll from its leg. "Thanks, Felix. Stick around if you want a treat. I'll get them in a sec."

The third owl was a large eagle owl that looked vaguely familiar... "Archimedes?" The owl's large yellow eyes bore into his for a moment, then it bobbed it's head. Harry gently untied Draco's message and set it with the others. "Do you need water? Or a treat?" In response to Harry's questions, Archimedes took off and flew out the window.

Harry shrugged and got owl treats for the other two. They both followed Archimedes out the window after getting their treat, but Henrietta flew back in to nuzzle Harry's cheek before leaving again. He smiled. "Have a good hunt."

Alone to read his letters, Harry eyed them apprehensively. He grabbed Hagrid's first.

_Dear Harry,_

_Great to hear from you. Things are good here. Come round the castle for tea for tea sometime, Olympe and I would love to see you. Say, this Friday around 6?_

_Hagrid_

Harry grabbed a small piece of parchment and scribbled "Yes please, see you then!" He addressed it and set it on the table for when Henrietta returned. 

Now... Harry reached out for Draco's note, opening it apprehensively.

_Potter,_

_I enjoyed having breakfast with you Saturday morning. Let’s do it again some time. Next week, perhaps? Let me know._

_Malfoy_

_P.S. Can you believe we made the front page? The writers at that rag must be bored stupid if you getting coffee is news._

Harry traced Draco's signature with his finger. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and a blush warmed his cheeks. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

_What are you doing? You have a boyfriend._

_A boyfriend you've been thinking about breaking up with,_ that small, rational voice argued back.

_Why would you do that? You love him._

Harry shook his head. _I really am going insane._

He picked up the last scroll and opened it.   


_ Dear Harry, _

_ It feels like we haven’t spoken in a long time. Ron and I were wondering if you would be available to fire call on Tuesday evening around 8 PM? We would love to talk to you! And Geoff too, if he’s home.  
_

_ Love, Hermione and Ron _

_ P.S. You went to breakfast with Malfoy? What the hell, mate? —Ron _

Harry chuckled, grabbed two more pieces of parchment, and wrote quickly. 

_Dear Hermione and Ron,_

_I’d love that. See you then._

_Harry_

_P.S. It was just to say thank you for healing me at St. Mungo’s last week, but I think we might be friends now. I’ll explain later._

And then—

_Malfoy,_

_The Prophet has always been ridiculous when it comes to me. Let’s make it breakfast and a Seeker’s Match next Saturday. You up for it? Meet me at the cafe at 8 AM, I’ll bring the snitch._

_Potter_

_P.S. I’m glad we’re friends._

•••••

Geoff tentatively opened the door the next evening and found Harry reading on the couch with his owl on his lap. He was absently stroking Henrietta's feathers as he read. She eyed Geoff beadily. That blasted owl had never liked him.

"Hi hon," Harry didn't look up.

"I brought a peace offering. Your favorite." More coffee.

Harry smiled and took the coffee, setting his book down. "Thanks. Listen, I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to upset you. It really was just a friendly chance meeting with Malfoy."

Geoff sat down beside him and Henrietta gave an annoyed hoot and flew over to her perch across the room.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry, too. I—"

Harry pulled him close and kissed him and Geoff slid into his arms happily. After a few minutes of comfortable snogging, Harry pulled back and glanced at his watch. 

"Hon, we'd better stop, Ron and Hermione are fire-calling in a few minutes."

"Oh. I was hoping we could, you know, take this to the bedroom..."

"Maybe later." Harry found himself feeling surprisingly uninterested. 

"Okay, baby," Geoff murmured, running a hand through Harry's hair, "It'll be nice to see those Granger-Weasleys again." This was a lie. Geoff detested Harry's best friends, but he was a good liar. He was sure he'd completely charmed them the few times that they'd met.

Harry smiled at him. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to hearing about their trip to Australia to see her parents. They've come to visit them here, but it was Rosie's first time going to their house." 

"Oh yeah, of course," Geoff resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You should drink that while it's still hot." 

Harry lifted the cup to his lips and Geoff smiled. He could put up with Harry's obnoxious friends tonight. Everything was fine.

Five minutes later, they were sitting on a small futon in front of the fireplace looking at Ron and Hermione through the fire.

"Harry! How are you? And Geoff—Good to see you!" Hermione gushed.

Geoff smiled and nodded politely.

"Hi Hermione, Ron," Harry responded enthusiastically, "how was your trip?"

"Wonderful! We had a fantastic time. Rosie _loved_ —"

Hermione kept talking, with Ron chiming in intermittently, but Geoff wasn't interested. After a few minutes, he leaned against Harry's shoulder, tuning them out completely.

An hour passed, and Geoff was struggling to stay awake. That is, until—

"So, tell us about this new friendship with _Malfoy."_

Geoff's head shot up.

Hermione, recognizing the fury in his expression, tried to give Ron a warning look, but he was oblivious.

"How did _that_ happen, Mate?"

Harry shrugged, "I dunno, honestly. I just saw him at St. Mungo's after I got injured in the field, and he was... Nice."

"Nice? _Malfoy?_ You can't be serious."

Maybe Geoff did like Ron, after all.

Harry smiled. "He's different from the obnoxious git we knew at school: Polite, funny, easy to talk to..." Harry shrugged again, "I liked him."

"I can't even _imagine_ a nice version of Malfoy." Ron looked baffled at the very idea. 

Geoff had pulled back and was watching Harry with narrowed eyes. "But you're not going to see him _again,_ are you?"

Hermione, sensing danger, tried to change the subject. "So Harry, Rosie has been doing the cutest thing lately—" 

"Well, yeah, we're going to play quidditch on Saturday."

"You're _WHAT?"_ Geoff's face turned a mottled red and white, his fists clenched.

Harry turned to face him, flustered by his rage. "We're friends, Geoff. We can play quidditch."

"No, You _CAN'T._ He's a Death Eater, Harry. He could be up to something."

Even Ron was uncomfortable now. "Well, we'd better go..."

_"Former_ Death Eater," Harry corrected, "and he was just a kid."

"Do you love me?" Geoff demanded.

"I... Yes."

"Cancel quidditch."

"But—"

"Cancel. Please, Harry... For me?"

"Fine."

"You will? Oh, thank you, Harry! No good would come from that friendship, I can guarantee that—" Geoff threw his arms around Harry's neck.

Ron and Hermione watched silently, both taken aback by the exchange.

Harry gave them an apologetic smile over Geoff's shoulder. "I'll see you guys soon, okay?"

"Bye, Harry." Hermione ended the call.

True to his word, Harry wrote Draco immediately and cancelled quidditch on Saturday, and made no offer of future plans. The letter was polite, but Geoff hovered over his shoulder and made sure it was sufficiently aloof. Harry addressed the scroll and sent it off with Henrietta.

Geoff grinned triumphantly, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist from behind and kissing his neck.

"What do you say we pick up where we left off earlier?"

Harry gently extricated himself and walked away. "I'm tired, Geoff. Let's just go to bed."


	5. We've Got to Stop Meeting Like This

Two months later, Harry found himself cursing the Neo-Death Eaters again.

They were investigating a lead on the latest violent acts terrorizing the wizarding community: a series of mysterious magical bombings on muggleborns with tragic, horrifying results.

Visiting the first bombing site had made Harry, and several others, violently lose his lunch. Even with his previous experiences with death, he'd never seen anything like this, and he was determined to put a stop to it.

Shivering slightly at the grisly memories, Harry led his team into the abandoned house. They split up and searched every room.

In the basement, Harry and Jasper Miner, his second-in-command, found a makeshift potions lab. It looked like it had been cleared out in a hurry.

"Let's get a forensics team in here, Jaz."

"Sure thing. I'll send a patronus to Robards."

Miner walked up the stairs, while Harry put on a pair of gloves and began gathering what evidence he could find. He was startled by a shout from upstairs, followed by a series of crashes.

Harry bolted for the stairs. He emerged to find his team under attack. NDE's were everywhere. _Is there no end to their ranks?_

He jumped into action, spells and shields flying from his wand in rapid succession.

The Aurors managed to subdue most of them, while a few fled the scene.

Harry watched as Miner was putting magical cuffs on one when the Neo-Death Eater suddenly broke through Harry's binding spell, a blazing, hateful look in the eyes behind the white mask.

The man spun around and stabbed Harry in the gut. Neither of the Aurors had even seen the knife until it was too late.

Harry's eyes widened as he fell back, staring at the knife now protruding from his robes, a deep red stain blossoming around the silver handle.

"Stupefy!"

The masked villain dropped and was quickly cuffed.

Miner knelt next to Harry. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine," Harry muttered, even as his face drained of color and his vision darkened.

"We'd better get you to St. Mungo's."

Harry passed out apparating to St. Mungo's in his friend's arms. He was levitated onto a stretcher and quickly wheeled away.

•••••

The next evening, Draco looked up from his potion when Dottie Hewitt knocked on the door.

"Healer Malfoy? Healer Thomas asked me to consult with you about a patient. It's a knife wound, possibly poisoned or cursed."

"Where?"

"Abdomen."

"You have the file?"

Dottie nodded and held it out. "It's Harry Potter."

Draco fought to keep his face impassive. Harry had ignored his invitation to reschedule their seekers match. He had been elated when Harry had invited him, and then... Harry had cancelled without an explanation and completely ignored him. Draco was confused and more than a little annoyed. _Friends, my arse_ , he thought furiously.

He took the file and looked it over. "The healing salve had no effect on the wound? At all?" Draco's brows shot up.

Dottie nodded. "And the pain relief potion is having no effect as well."

"So he's in a massive amount of pain and he just keeps bleeding?"

"Right through the bandages. He's been here since yesterday afternoon with no improvement."

"Any fever?"

"No, sir."

"Not yet," Draco corrected quietly, speaking more to himself than to Dottie. "Tell Thomas I'll take over this one."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Which room?"

"302."

"Will you be able to assist me as well as Thomas? You're by far the best assistant here."

She blushed at the rare compliment. "I—Yes, I should be able to."

"Great. Check with Thomas, but that would be my preference. Meet me in Potter's room as soon as you can."

"Yes, sir." She left the room with her typical exuberance.

Draco set his potion to simmer, and made his way to Harry Potter's hospital room.

_What had the git-who-wouldn't-die gotten himself into now?_

Schooling his features into an apathetic expression, he pushed the door open and entered.

Seeing Harry, who was pale and breathing unsteadily, made his stomach constrict uncomfortably. But he felt his anger toward the other man soften ever-so-slightly as he looked at him. He was clearly in no small amount of pain.

"Evening, Potter. How are you feeling?"

"Honestly?" Harry tried to give him a crooked little smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "I feel like shit."

Draco frowned, stepping closer. "You look it. Let me take a look at that knife wound. Hewitt said Healer Thomas treated it last night and earlier today?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "Still burns like hell, though. Is that normal?"

Draco pursed his lips as he crossed the room. "I don't think so. I'm going to remove your robe from your torso so I can take a look, alright?."

Harry nodded. Draco waved his wand and Harry's robe slipped off his shoulders and pooled around his waist. A white bandage, already soaked with blood despite looking quite fresh, covered the wound.

Draco deftly removed the bandage, his fingers lightly brushing over Harry's skin. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight that greeted him when the bandage was removed.

The wound in Harry's abdomen was worse than Draco had imagined. Deep, and despite the healing spells and salve Healer Thomas had applied the night before and twice more throughout the day, it hadn't even begun to heal. If anything, it might have gotten worse.

"Potter," Draco gently touched the skin the around the wound with a gloved hand, making Harry grimace in pain, "what _exactly_ happened?"

"It was—ngh, that hurts—a knife. We were investigating a case and we caught the NDE's and took their wands. One broke through the binding spell and stabbed me."

"NDE?"

"Neo-Death Eater," Harry whispered, glancing at the closed door.

Draco's eyes widened. "I didn't know that those... Existed."

Harry nodded. "We think they're being organized by one of Voldemort's original Death Eaters that evaded capture. We caught most of them right after the war, but there are a couple still at large—"

_Like me,_ Draco thought bitterly. "Where is the knife now?"

"I'm not sure. Healer Thomas said he needed to have someone check it for curses."

The door opened and Dottie entered, smiling brightly at Harry.

"Good timing, Hewitt. Would you please locate the knife that was used to stab Potter for me? I need to run some tests."

"Yes sir, right away sir," Dottie responded, turning to leave again. She paused and looked at Harry with a shy smile and batted her long eyelashes. "Hi, Harry."

"Hullo, Dot. How are you?"

She blushed furiously, "Good, thanks..."

Draco rolled his eyes, " _Now_ , please, Hewitt. This is urgent."

She scurried out of the room.

Draco returned his attention to Harry's abdomen, his eyes narrowed. After examining the wound a second time, Draco straightened and met Harry's eyes.

"I'm going to take a few samples of your blood to test in my potions lab tonight. I'll try a cooling salve to help with the burning sensation while I try to figure out a remedy. There must have been something unusual about that knife that's preventing the wound from healing. The sooner I can get a look at the weapon, the sooner I can figure this out. Sorry Potter, it appears you'll be with us for a few days this time."

Harry nodded. "Sorry for the trouble, Malfoy."

"It's no trouble," Draco said, although his words and his body language were inconsistent. He was being studiously polite, his voice and posture stiff. "This is what I _do_ , Potter. It's the reason I studied both Potions and Healing, and it's the reason I was able to get such a good job here, despite my—" He cleared his throat, "—sordid past. I specialize in difficult magical wounds. I like the challenge. I'll get this figured out and send you on your way."

"Well, then—Thank you," Harry replied with a smile.

"You're welcome. Now brace yourself. It's a simple spell, but quite painful. I'm afraid taking these samples is not going to be fun for you."

"Are you saying it's fun for you?" Harry accused through gritted teeth, as Draco took the first sample.

"Of course it is. You know I've always enjoyed causing you pain, Potter."

Harry tried to respond sarcastically, but he was cut off by his own groan of pain as Draco, knowing Harry's preference to simply get things over with, cast the spell several more times in quick succession to get the samples he needed.

"Done," Draco put the last sample in a small case and closed the lid. "At least I'm fast."

"True," Harry gritted out. "I suppose you'll have to do."

"I suppose I will. I'm going to get started on these right away. I'll have Hewitt bring you a dose of blood-replenishing potion and have her apply the cooling salve before replacing your bandage."

"Okay."

"Give her the thrill of a lifetime, _that_ will," Draco added, rolling his eyes.

"What?"

"Oblivious as ever, I see. I'll be back in the morning, hopefully with some answers. See you then, Potter."

Harry gave him a confused look, but decided not to push it. Draco's cold demeanor was not lost on him, however, and Harry felt a surge of guilt.

"Listen, Malfoy. I'm sorry for not rescheduling our seeker's match, I didn't mean to—"

Draco's eyes were hard as steel when he turned around to look at Harry. "Forget it, Potter. It's fine."

The door slammed shut behind him.

•••••

Dottie was carefully applying the cooling salve to Harry's wound when Ron and Hermione walked in.

"Okay, Harry, we just passed Malfoy in the hall, and he didn't look at all like this new _nice_ version you described, he looked exactly like the same git he's always been," Ron declared.

Dottie's head turned sharply to glare at Ron.

"Ron," Hermione warned.

"What? Is he suddenly not a git?"

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm afraid I'm responsible for his bad mood today. He really is nice now, I swear. He was still surprisingly pleasant just now actually, given the fact that he's angry with me," he turned to Dottie and murmured, "we didn't get on very well at Hogwarts."

"I see." She nodded, but her expression remained stony. She began wrapping a new bandage around Harry's stomach.

"You actually _like_ working with Malfoy?" Ron asked her, looking shocked.

"He's nicer to the assistants than most of the healers. He's one of my favorites. And the work he's doing with patients with permanent spell damage is incredible. The difference I've seen in some of them in just the past month—"

"Okay, we get it," Ron interrupted rudely, "Malfoy's a saint. I won't speak ill of him again."

Dottie sniffed as she finished applying Harry's bandage, tugging it tight and clipping the excess a bit more forcefully than necessary. 

Harry winced. "Thanks, Dot."

She nodded mutely and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Oi, Ron! Mind not insulting the people tending to my injury? I'd like to get better." Harry joked, tugging his hospital robe back up over his shoulders and pulling it closed.

"Sorry, mate. I had no idea Malfoy was so... well- _liked_ ," Ron spoke the word distastefully, "around here."

Harry relaxed back onto the pillows that propped him up in the bed, shifting his weight to get more comfortable.

Ron scoffed, "I still don't buy it. Malfoy? Nice? No one can change that much."

"I dunno, Ron—"

"So, how are you feeling?" Hermione cut in, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Okay, I guess. The knife wound isn't healing properly. That's why they called Malfoy in, he's a specialist in unique magical injuries now. Apparently, I'm going to be here longer than I thought."

"Have you told Geoff?"

"I owled him right before you got here. He doesn't get off work for a few hours, though."

"How have things been with Geoff?"

"Really good, actually."

"Great," Hermione brightened, "Well I'm glad I brought this for you, since you'll be here for a while!" She reached into her bag and pulled out a large book. "Quidditch Through the Ages, Part II."

Harry smiled, "Thanks, Hermione."

"And I brought you some quidditch information written this century," Ron said with a grin, reaching into Hermione's bag as well. He pulled out a Quidditch magazine. It boasted rosters and stats for all the current players and predictions for the upcoming season.

Harry tried to keep his enthusiasm equal to his response to Hermione's gift, but there was no hiding the spark in his eyes. "Thanks, Ron!"

He set both gifts on the table beside his bed. "It'll be nice to have some reading material when things are slow around here."

The three of them talked for several hours, laughing and talking while sitting on Harry's bed. It was almost like old times at Hogwarts, just the three of them.

Eventually though, Hermione glanced at her watch and sighed. "We'd better get going, Ron. We promised Molly we'd pick up Rosie by Five, and it's already five-past."

"Alright, then. See you later, Harry." Ron patted his shoulder and stood.

Hermione bent and kissed his cheek. "Feel better, Harry."

"Thanks for coming," Harry grinned at his best friends, "Give my best to Molly, and give Rose a kiss for me. Better yet, bring my goddaughter with you if you visit again. I miss her."

His friends smiled back, "Will do. See you, Harry."

Dottie hadn't entered the room the entire time Ron and Hermione had been there, but she checked on Harry after they left.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?"

"The cooling salve helped a bit, thanks. Listen," he paused, trying to find the right words, "I'm sorry about my friend. He tends to hold a grudge, and he _did_ have good reason to dislike him at school, Draco insulted his family quite frequently, but he won't disparage Healer Malfoy around you again. I promise."

Dottie sighed. "If we were all the same as we were at school, I'd still be a vapid, self-obsessed airhead. People change, Harry."

Harry relaxed a bit at her return to using his first name. "I know," he replied softly.

"Not you, though," She murmured, tugging his robe down to check his bandage, "you've always been this heroic and muscular, haven't you." She ran her fingers lightly over his chest.

Harry swallowed, finally seeing what Draco had referred to earlier. "Er, not exactly, no," He responded awkwardly.

"Baby!" Geoff burst into the room, making Dottie jump back, startled.

Geoff pounced on him, attempting to kiss him deeply. Harry pushed him back, crying out in pain. "Whoa—Stop! That hurts!"

Dottie's eyes widened as she realized what she was seeing.

Geoff climbed off of Harry, but sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed his hand. "Are you okay, Baby? I was so worried when I got your owl. Do you need anything?"

Harry gave him a small forced smile. He was extremely uncomfortable with the over-the-top affection and the way Dottie was staring at him in surprise. "No, I'm fine. I don't—I mean—You don't have to stay with me."

"Of course I do. This isn't some one night hospital stay like we thought. This could take _weeks_ to heal! I won't leave you alone again for a second!"

Harry groaned internally. _Why hadn't he ended this relationship when he'd had the chance? Oh, right. Because he loved this obnoxious airhead... Didn't he?_

Geoff stayed perched on the edge of Harry's bed all evening, leaving only to fetch them both some dinner.

While he was gone, Dottie popped in again. She checked Harry's vitals and changed his soaked bandage. She also added a cooling spell to Harry's wound. "Healer Malfoy said this might help you feel more comfortable tonight. He also recommended another dose of blood replenishing potion and a dose of dreamless sleep potion before bed."

"Okay. Thanks."

"So," Dottie raised an eyebrow and folded her arms, "Baby, huh?"

"Um, yeah. Not my favorite pet name."

Dottie smiled. "You didn't seem nearly as... _enthusiastic_...to see your boyfriend as he was to see you."

Harry ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, I think I need to—"

The door opened and Harry fell silent.

"I have food!" Geoff sang as he bounded in.


	6. She's Smart Enough to Figure it Out--Are You?

The next morning, Dottie walked into Draco's office and found him looking surprisingly haggard, as if he hadn't slept at all. His desk was scattered with several enormous, dusty old books. The potions lab adjoining his office was a bit of a mess as well.

"Morning Healer Malfoy! Did—did you _sleep_ here?"

He glanced up distractedly from the page he was studying intently. "Sleep? Hmm, no—I've been researching all night. I need to figure out what's going on with Potter. I'm worried that this stab wound is more serious than I initially realized." He ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Any word on that knife?"

"Yes. Healer Thomas sent it to the ministry to be examined. The Aurors said they still need to finish testing the knife for dark spells and curses, but they'll send it over this afternoon."

Draco nodded, "Alright, then. Listen, Hewitt... I hate to bring this up, but the blushing and flirting in Potter's room yesterday? I'm afraid it was a bit... Well. Unprofessional."

Dottie blushed crimson again. "I'm sorry, Healer Malfoy. He's just so attractive. And nice. But it won't happen again, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, _definitely_. I learned something last night. Potter is—well, as the muggle's say, he bats for your team."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "I have absolutely _no_ idea what that means."

"He's gay."

Draco's eyes widened. "He's not."

"He _is!_ He has a boyfriend, he kissed him right in front of me..."

A thousand fantasies raced through Draco's mind. He'd been in love with Harry Potter for as long as he'd known him, but he'd never thought—Never even let himself hope that Harry might be... No. This was too much to process. Draco groaned and put his head down on his desk. Dottie was still talking.

"He might be bisexual, actually. I know he's dated women before. He's definitely with a man right now, though. But I don't think Harry likes him very much. I think he's going to break up with him, he practically told me... Are you okay?"

"I'm—yes, I just need a nap. I'm exhausted. Tell Potter I don't have any conclusive results yet. Wake me as soon as that knife arrives so I can start testing it, okay?"

"Okay," Dottie opened the door, turning to watch as Draco transfigured his desk into a small bed and promptly curled up on it, "See you."

"Well, _that_ was a surprising response," Dottie muttered to herself as she walked down the hall.

She had watched the emotions that flickered across Draco's face when she told him Harry had a boyfriend, and they were very interesting, to say the least.

•••••

Draco awoke to a gentle knock on the door several hours later. "Healer Malfoy? The knife's just arrived."

He rubbed his eyes and stood up. "Come in, Hewitt."

She opened the door and walked inside, carrying a package.

"Dark spell and curse free, according to the Aurors. But it still could have been dipped in something. A potion? Or a poison?"

Draco took the package from her and set it on his re-transfigured desk. "Yes. Either of those could have caused the issues with healing Potter's wound. If it's a poison, though, you'd think we would have seen the effects by now, unless it was extremely slow-acting."

"Effects, meaning...?"

"Foaming at the mouth, twitching, hallucinating, entering a comatose state, and..." Draco paled, "death."

"But we haven't seen _any_ of those symptoms, so, does that mean it's a potion of some kind?"

"Maybe. I want you to stay in Potter's room today and watch him closely in case there _was_ poison on the blade. I'll find someone to cover your other patients with Healer Thomas until I'm finished testing the knife, okay?"

Draco walked into the lab, grabbed a small box, and pressed it into Dottie's hand. "Inside this box is a bezoar. It's the best antidote for most poisons. Give it to him if he shows the slightest signs of poisoning."

She nodded solemnly and took the box, carefully setting it in a pocket of her robes. "I think you should come check Harry's wound and tell him all of that yourself. He's been asking if you'll come back when you have news..."

"You're right, I should. Just... Give me a moment to compose myself. You go on ahead and I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Alright." Dottie left, shaking her head, an amused smile on her face. _Compose himself? Hmm. He couldn't be seen by Potter looking disheveled and sleep-deprived, now could he?_

She giggled to herself, covering her mouth with her hand.

Draco ran a hand through his hair and pulled out his wand. A quick spell smoothed his wrinkled robes, another restored his hair to its usual neatly coiffed state. Two more quick spells assured his body and his breath both smelled as they should. He conjured a mirror and looked over his appearance. There was nothing he could do about the dark circles under his eyes, but other than that he looked presentable.

Now he just had to keep his head while speaking to Potter.

"You can do this," Draco whispered to himself. He took a deep steadying breath, then opened the door and made his way to Potter's room.

A handsome blond man with piercing blue eyes sat in a chair at Harry's bedside, a game of wizard's chess floating between them.

Draco knocked on the open door, making them both jump and look up.

"Afternoon, Potter. I need to take a look at your wound and replace your bandage. Your— _friend_ —will need to step outside for a moment."

"Boyfriend," the man spat furiously, glaring at Draco, "Not 'friend.'"

Harry glanced between them, his eyebrows raised.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Right, well, either way, please step outside while I examine _Harry_. It will only take a few minutes." His voice was cold, his use of Potter's first name a barb intended to annoy.

It did. Geoff glowered at Draco, then stood and bent over Harry to kiss him dramatically. "I'll be right back, Baby."

Harry spoke for the first time since Draco had entered the room. "Actually Hon, while you wait, do you think you could go out and get some things for me?" He reached into his bag on the bedside table and pulled out a list and and a small bag of coins, pressing them into Geoff's hands.

"Of course, Baby. Anything you want." The man gave Draco one last scathing look as he stalked out of the room.

Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Harry looked up and smiled. "Sorry about him. Geoff gets jealous any time an attractive guy is around, never mind the fact that you're a professional who's trying to help me heal," Harry rolled his eyes, "he hears 'look at Harry's wound' and somehow interprets that to mean 'strip his clothes off and ravage him on the hospital bed.' It's a bit ridiculous."

Draco smiled back, a heated blush climbing his cheeks at these words. Did Potter just casually refer to him as attractive? "Yes, well, as pleasant as that sounds... I'm just here to check your wound and give you a quick update."

Harry grinned, pleased to have made Draco smile after their frigid encounter the day before. "I know."

Draco walked over to him and carefully removed the top half of his robes again. His fingers shook a bit as he gently unwound the bandage, and he let out a gasp when he saw the deep knife wound.

It had turned nearly black, the skin around it tinged with grey, with dark tendrils stretching in every direction. The wound wasn't bleeding anymore, but it still wasn't healing.

"Everything okay?"

The blond looked into Harry's bright green eyes and saw a hint of fear in them as he watched Draco's expression.

"I'm not sure, Harry. I'm sorry."

Draco thought quickly, trying to decide what course of treatment to try next. "How have you been feeling today?"

"Um," their eyes met again, and Harry faltered for a moment, "I've been feeling weak. Drained. I've been sleeping a lot. My stomach—it's stopped burning, but it still aches sometimes. And sometimes it feels almost... numb? If that makes sense?"

Draco nodded. "It does. I've never seen anything like this before, though. I just got the knife this afternoon, so I'm going to run some more tests. I hope I'll have some answers for you today or tomorrow."

"Thanks... Draco," Harry smiled at him, and Draco felt a wash of heat over his cheeks again; an involuntary response to Harry's use of his first name and the trusting look in his emerald eyes.

Draco turned away to grab a new bandage. "What, it's _Draco_ now? Are we friends?"

"You called me Harry earlier!" Harry protested. "But yeah, I'd like to be."

Draco rubbed a healing salve over Harry's wound with a gloved hand, making him wince. "In that case, as your friend, I have to ask... _Baby?_ "

Harry's grimace deepened. "Oh. Yeah, I know. I hate that pet name."

"And you never thought to ask him to call you something else?" Draco smirked as he wrapped the bandage and trimmed the excess.

"I have literally _begged_ him to call me something else. He thinks it's 'sweet,'" Harry pulled another face, "it's not. It's embarrassing."

"Hmm. I could suggest 'Potty,' or 'Scarhead' to him? Are those better?"

Harry chuckled, "I suppose I could get used to 'Scarhead,' if those are my only options."

There was a light knock on the door, followed by Dottie entering.

"Hey, how's it going in here?"

"Fine," Draco answered, "where've you been?"

"Got caught up helping Healer Thomas with another patient, sorry."

"It's alright. You okay to stay in here now and keep an eye on him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wait, why—?" Harry shot Draco a confused look.

"I want Hewitt to monitor you for the next few hours, just in case. One of the possible elements preventing your injury from healing is... Poison."

"Poison? But wouldn't we have seen the effects of that by now?"

"Typically, yes. But it could be unusually slow-acting."

Harry nodded, his stomach twisting in fear.

Dottie gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Harry. Healer Malfoy is very good. He'll set you right."

"Thanks, Hewitt. Right. I'm going to get back to work. Hopefully I'll be back with some answers." Draco nodded at Dottie, then Harry.

"See you later, Scarhead," Draco teased as he walked over to the door.

"Shut it, you." Harry threw a chess piece at him. Draco dodged it easily and left, unable to mask the smile on his face as he walked back to his office.

•••••

Dottie turned to Harry, "I see you two have made up. What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing. Just an inside joke."

"Right." Dottie sat in the chair at Harry's bedside, pushing the floating chess set aside. "So, where's Geoff?"

"I sent him to pick up some things for me," Harry glanced at his watch, "he should be back in an hour or so. Hopefully longer."

"Did you send him out just to get rid of him?"

Harry's mouth twitched as he fought a smile. "Of course not."

She raised an eyebrow.

Harry sighed, knowing she'd seen right through him. "Wouldn't you? He's suffocating! I needed a breather."

"Why don't you just, oh, I don't know, _break up with him?_ "

Harry groaned and ran a hand over his face, "I dunno. I tried—About four months ago. It was a complete disaster. I don't really remember what happened. I agreed to give it another go, but to be honest, I'm not sure why. He's..."

"Unbearably annoying?"

Harry burst out laughing. "Exactly."

"Do it, then. You'll be happier."

"I know, I know. I should, but I just don't know if I _can_. I think... I love him."

"You _think_ you love him? But you also feel so smothered and annoyed by him that you gave him fake errands just to get him away from you for a bit? That doesn't make sense, Harry."

Dottie glanced at the coffee cup on Harry's bedside table. The name _Geoff_ was scribbled on the side.

Slowly, things started to make sense. She felt a wave of disgust and horror as the realization set in: _Love potion._

Geoff was dosing Harry, she was almost sure of it. _What a bloody creep._

Dottie forced a calm expression onto her face and tried to speak casually. "Well, it's your choice, you're the one that will be smothered forever if you don't end it," she paused, "Listen, I just had a thought about your wound... I need to talk to Healer Malfoy. I'll be right back."

Dottie hesitated before taking a clear glass ball out of her pocket. She pressed it into his hand, "If you feel any different, even just a bit, shake this. I have one too, and mine will vibrate if you shake yours."

"Okay. Thanks, Dot."

She paused at the door. "Harry, before I go, I'm curious... Just how—exactly—do you feel about Geoff?"

Harry's brow creased. "It's confusing. Sometimes I think I love him, and then I just want to get away from him..."

"I get it," she responded brightly, "I'll be right back."


	7. Who'll Be Your Hero When Your Hero is Broken?

"Healer Malfoy?"

"What is it, Hewitt?"

He was dipping the knife blade in a bubbling cauldron. The blade turned red, then blue, then returned to its original metallic silver.

"Interesting." He wrote a note on a piece of parchment that was already covered in a neat list of scribbles and notes.

"I'm worried about Harry."

His head jerked around to look at her. "Is he okay? Has something happened?"

"Not exactly. I was just talking to him, and... I think he's under the influence of a love potion. Or a spell, maybe not as serious as imperious, but..."

"Potter can throw off the imperious curse. A lesser spell wouldn't hold him long. He seems fine to me. What makes you think something's wrong?"

Her eyes widened. "He can throw off... _Seriously?"_

Draco nodded. "He's more powerful than he lets on. Tell me what's got you so concerned."

"I was talking to him about his relationship just now, and he just seemed... _Confused_. About why he's still in it. He said sometimes he feels he's in love with his boyfriend, and sometimes he just wants to get away. He couldn't explain why. It felt like he'd been confunded, or something. But they've been together for six months, so it couldn't be a confundus charm. That's why I'm thinking love potion."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to give him a general antidote for LP's, just in case."

"There's definitely something off. I can feel it."

He smiled at her. "I trust your intuition, Hewitt."

Draco grabbed a small vial of lime green potion from a cabinet. "Give him this, but be careful. Being controlled for that long would make any witch or wizard a bit volatile. Harry is powerful, and," he hesitated for a moment, "he's extremely passionate and strong-willed. If your theory is correct, he won't respond well. He also won't take the antidote if you tell him what it is, so you may need to lie."

"Okay," She set her glass marble on the table beside him. Can I leave this here? In case something goes wrong? Harry has the other one."

"Sure, I'll just be working here for the next few hours. I'm waiting on a couple potions to finish simmering before I go home for the night."

"Thanks."

•••••

Five minutes later, Draco didn't need the marble to start vibrating to know that something was very wrong.

The floor began to shake and the lights started to flicker.

"Bollocks, she was right," Draco gasped.

He placed a few stabilization spells to keep his potions from spilling and took off running. As he approached Harry's room, the shaking and flickering intensified. An alarm blared in his ears. Other hospital employees were also running toward the room.

"YOU _BASTARD!"_

Draco heard a loud crash.

"YOU'VE BEEN DOSING ME WITH A LOVE POTION FOR SIX BLOODY MONTHS? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"No, just since—" there was a gagging sound.

"SHUT _UP!"_

"HARRY! Please stop! You're scaring me!" That was Hewitt.

"HOW _COULD_ YOU?"

"Harry, please, I love you—" a strangled voice pleaded.

Draco opened the door to complete chaos. The air was swirling around the room as if they were in a hurricane, any loose objects that had been in the room careening dangerously.

Harry was standing in the middle of it all beside the bed, his face a terrifying picture of manic rage, his right hand raised. Draco turned and saw Geoff, pinned against the wall a few inches off the ground. He was red-faced and clearly gasping for breath. Dottie was huddled in a corner, covered by a strong shield spell that objects were bouncing off of, her eyes wide with fear.

Another employee tried to rush past him into the room and was blown back by the swirling magic. He hit the wall in the hallway and slid to the ground, unconscious.

Everyone else either rushed to the injured employee or took a step back.

"I think we'll need to stun him," a voice said.

"It's _Harry Potter!_ "

"The entire hospital is at risk. We need to stop this."

"No spell is going through that," Draco said, indicating the swirling magic and finally joining the discussion, "I have an idea. Anyone have a mild sedative potion?"

Someone pressed a vial into his hand. He glanced down at the label, then nodded in thanks and pulled out his wand. He cast a shield charm around himself and moved closer to the open doorway bracing himself with a hand on each side.

"Potter!"

Harry's blazing green eyes were unfocused beneath his glasses when they met Draco's. He wasn't in control.

"HARRY!" Draco shouted over the din, "Harry, I'm coming in!"

Draco pointed his wand at his shoes, and they grew as heavy as lead. With slow steps, he pushed his way through the swirling air, objects bouncing off his shield. He glanced at Dottie, who was staring at him in awe.

"Harry!"

Draco made it through the swirling air and pitched forward, suddenly free of resistance. He removed the spell on his shoes and darted forward, grabbing Harry by the arms.

"Harry! Stop!" Draco shook him, and Harry finally looked at him, his eyes slowly coming into focus.

"Draco?"

"Harry, I'm here. Look at me."

"I can't stop—he—he drugged me—controlled me—I'm so angry—I—I can't—I don't know _how_ to stop—" Harry glanced around frantically, his eyes filled with fear. "I don't know how to stop," he repeated, an edge of panic entering his voice.

Draco grabbed his face and pressed his forehead against Harry's. "Look at me, Harry. Just take a breath and look at me."

Harry took a shallow breath, his eyes locking on Draco's. The shaking and flickering of the lights stopped.

Draco pulled back and held the vial to his mouth. "Drink this."

Harry opened his mouth obediently and swallowed the potion. "What was that?"

"Just a mild sedative. It'll help, trust me."

Harry sank to his knees, and the swirling magic and air abruptly stopped. Various objects clattered to the floor all around the room. Draco followed him down, still holding Harry's arms to support him.

Geoff dropped as well, now unconscious. He hit the ground with a thump. Dottie stood and walked over to him, quickly checking his pulse. "He'll be fine, he's just knocked out."

Draco waved his wand without taking his eyes off of Harry's and ropes bound Geoff's hands and feet. "Contact the Aurors. I'm sure they'll want to take care of him personally."

"Yes, sir," Dottie hurried from the room to fetch an owl, momentarily scattering the crowd at the door.

Harry looked into Draco's eyes as the sedative began to kick in, and Draco watched them fill with tears. "I really can't trust anyone," he whispered. "When will people stop using me? Everyone wants something from me. I'm just a pawn." He picked up a chess piece off the floor beside him and held it up, swaying slightly, "Just a pawn to take advantage of and throw away. I don't want—" His eyes fluttered closed and a single tear trailed down his cheek as he slumped forward, losing consciousness. Draco caught him and held him gently against his shoulder, his own eyes suddenly misty.

The other medi-witches and wizards huddled just outside the door, watching and whispering to each other.

"Go check on your other patients, I've got this under control," Draco rasped, barely keeping his emotions in check. When nobody moved, he barked, "this isn't a bloody exhibition. Go!"

He flicked his wand and the door slammed shut. Draco heard them scatter, voices and footsteps getting fainter, moving away in multiple directions.

Draco took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Harry's face was pressed against his shoulder, glasses askew, his messy black hair tickling Draco's neck. He resisted the urge to run his hands through the soft, thick mane. He wouldn't take advantage of Harry in any way, no matter how small, while he was vulnerable.

Unlike the insufferable git who was now twitching on the floor, waking up to find himself bound.

"Wha-What happened?"

"Silencio."

Not the most professional response, Draco mused, but he couldn't stand that man's voice for even a second. Silencing him was a good way to prevent himself from doing something far worse.

After summoning a pillow for his head, Draco gently lay Harry down on the floor and stood, raising his wand. He repaired everything that was broken, starting with the bed.

He levitated Harry back up on it and gently pulled a blanket over him, removing his glasses and setting them on the table next to Harry's wand, which had stayed there, untouched, for the entire fiasco. Finished repairing everything that was broken, he summoned and put away the various chess pieces, books, and medical equipment that were strewn about the room.

He had just finished cleaning up when Dottie entered, flanked by two burly Aurors who both looked furious.

The one on her left, a tall black man, spoke first in a deep voice, "Tell us what happened, Healer." 

"My assistant," Draco indicated with a hand toward Dottie, "began to suspect that Mr. Potter was under the influence of a love potion after speaking with him about his relationship today. I gave her a general antidote for love potions to test her theory."

Draco's eyes dropped to his shoes as he felt a twinge if guilt. "I should have come down with her, but I was focused on studying the knife to heal his stab wound, so I stayed in my lab. I should have come down and helped keep the situation under control."

Dottie shook her head. "No. You didn't know if I was right, there was no way you could have—"

The second Auror, an older man with salt and pepper hair and striking blue eyes cut her off, but his tone was gentle, "What happened when you gave Potter the antidote?"

"I told him it was for his stomach wound. I knew the love potion would make him resist if I told him what it really was. Plus, that git was in the room," she nodded toward Geoff, "and I knew he'd fight me as well, if my theory was correct."

"Good thinking. Go on."

Dottie swallowed nervously. "I—I gave him the antidote. It took a few minutes to work, but when it did, he—Harry—he started shouting, and then his magic made the floor shake and the lights flicker. I tried to calm him down, but that just made it worse. He lost control, and everything started flying around. I tried to cast a shield charm around me and him," she pointed at Geoff, "but Harry's magic broke his immediately. Not mine, though. Mine got stronger, as if he was protecting me."

So he wasn't _completely_ out of control, Draco thought.

"He—" Dottie pointed at Geoff again, who was watching them nervously from the floor, "tried to say something and Harry started choking him with magic to shut him up. I don't think he even realized what he was doing at that point. That was when Healer Malfoy managed to get to Harry. He calmed him down enough to get him to take a sedative. Then he sent me to owl you, and now—well, here you are," she finished awkwardly.

The first Auror bent down toward Geoff, speaking in his deep timbre, which now sounded menacing, "Now tell us your story, ingrate. And do not try to lie to me, I'll know."

Geoff opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He looked terrified.

"Speak now you wretch, or I'll—"

"Oh, right, sorry. Silencing charm." Draco lifted the charm with a quick wave of his wand.

Geoff cleared his throat, testing his voice before starting. "I didn't use the potion to force him to _date_ me. We met at a bar, like lots of people. We went out a few times, then he took me home and, well—" Geoff shot Draco a nasty smile, "lets just say he knows what he's doing in the bedroom, and the man is _fit_. You would not _believe_ how—"

"Ugh. Skip ahead," the older Auror snapped.

Geoff swallowed nervously. "Right. Well, we dated for two months and I fell in love. How could I not? He's Harry Potter, you know?"

Geoff glanced at Draco again before continuing, "But _he_ didn't. I could tell he was going to end it. So I invited him to dinner one night, and I dosed his drink. Harry started to tell me that he wanted to just be friends, but after a few sips of butterbeer, he was mine again. I knew it was too obvious, he'd never been one to fawn over me like he did that night.

"So I cut back the dosage until it was just enough to keep him, but he acted pretty much like himself. It was perfect. All I had to do was give him a small dose in his coffee each day. He finally loved me, and he asked me to move in with him, so I did, and, like I said, he's _incredible_ in the sack, so—"

"Silencio!"

The younger Auror looked sheepishly around at them all. "Sorry, he's my team leader. We're close friends, and there are some things I just don't want to know about. I think we've heard enough, anyway. Right, Robards?"

The other Auror—Robards, apparently—nodded solemnly. "Take him to a holding cell at the ministry, Miner. I'll stay here. I need to speak to Potter when he wakes up."

The black man levitated Geoff lazily, letting him whack his head on the door frame on the way out.

"Whoops," he shrugged as he followed him, a wicked glint in his eye. Geoff glared at him, but clearly didn't dare say anything.

Draco's head was starting to pound. He glanced at Harry sleeping peacefully on the bed. "I need to check my potions, see if they're ready—Wait, no, I need to change his bandage first, then I'll—"

Draco ran a hand through his hair, hating how flustered he felt and sounded. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, then walked over to the bedside. He gently pulled Harry's robe open and began unwrapping Harry's bandage.

He pulled it off and was met with a sickening smell. The three of them—Draco, Dottie, and Robards—all collectively gagged.

"What _is_ that?" Robards asked, a handkerchief pressed to his mouth.

"The wound, it's starting to smell... It's getting worse. I need to get upstairs and do more tests on that bloody knife."

Draco wrapped Harry's stomach quickly, masking the smell again. He started for the door, then walked back to the bedside table. He pulled a small piece of parchment out of a drawer, and a self-inking quill out of his pocket. He scribbled a quick note.

Granger-Weasleys,  
There was an incident at the hospital. Harry will be fine, but he will need you when he wakes up. Please come as soon as possible. My assistant Dottie will explain everything when you arrive.   
Draco Malfoy

He folded it in half, scribbled "Ron Weasley" on the outside, and held it out to Dottie. "Send this with a hospital owl for me, please. On your way back from the owlrey, grab a pain relief potion from the main lab, okay? He'll need that when he wakes up, for the headache. Oh, and grab some dinner and a treacle tart from the cafeteria for him, too. I'm sure he'll be hungry. When you get back, I need you to stay here and keep an eye on him. Explain what happened to his friends as best you can, preferably before they come in to talk to him."

Dottie raised an eyebrow. "A treacle tart?"

"Yeah, they're his favorite."

"And you know that because...?"

Draco shrugged. "We were in the same year at Hogwarts."

"Sure, okay," she teased.

He gave her a severe look and she sobered immediately. "I'm on it, Boss."

"Thank you."

Draco nodded to Robards and followed her out the door, making his way back to his lab to continue his research.

•••••

Harry woke almost exactly two hours later and brought a hand up to his head, which felt like it was splitting open. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a pained groan.

A cool hand brushed his cheek and pressed a glass vial to his mouth. "Drink this. It's for the headache."

Harry recognized Dottie's voice and obeyed without hesitation. "Thanks."

As the pain in his head cleared, recollection hit him, making him wince again. "What time is it? Is Draco here? I need to speak to him."

"It's eight-o-clock in the evening. Sorry Harry, he asked not to be disturbed while he works tonight. You should be able to talk to him tomorrow."

"Okay." Harry reached for his glasses and they flew into his hand.

He put them on and opened his eyes to look at her. "I'm so sorry, Dottie. It's been a long time since I've lost control of my magic. I just had all those emotions hit all at once and I got overwhelmed. I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

She smiled kindly at him. "No, everyone is fine. How are you feeling now?"

"The wave of competing emotions is gone. Now I just feel..."

"Violated?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. And strangely empty. And a bit... hungry? Do I smell treacle tart?"

Dottie laughed and summoned a tray from a small table across the room. "Yes, you do."

Harry grabbed the tart first and shoved it in his mouth, closing his eyes and savoring the taste. After he swallowed he looked up at Dottie. "How did you know those are my favorite?"

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I didn't."

He gave her a curious look, and she grinned at him. "Draco did."

"He remembered that?"

"Yes. I thought you didn't get on at Hogwarts?"

Harry looked pensive, using his fork to move the food around on his plate. "We didn't."

Dottie decided not to press it. "You have some visitors. Your friends from yesterday, and an auror named... Robards? I think?"

Harry straightened. "Robards is here?"

"Yes, just outside. He's been waiting to speak with you. I wanted to give you a moment to wake up and adjust before you had to answer questions. They all know what happened though, so you don't have to explain."

"Thanks."

"Who shall I send in first?"

"Robards is my boss, so definitely him."

•••••

Harry's chat with Robards was quick. He gratefully accepted the offer of a six month leave of absence.

"I'm confident they'll set that physical wound to rights any day now," Robards had said, "that Malfoy certainly seems determined to figure it out. But the mental recovery after a love potion can be brutal. See a mind healer, Potter. Come back in six months when you're fully recovered."

"Yes, sir. Jaz can lead the team without me."

Robards smiled at him and his gruff exterior softened for a moment. "They'll certainly suffer in the field without you, but they'll be okay. You're a good Auror, Potter. You'll be missed, but healing is more important right now."

He'd clapped him on the shoulder and left, nodding to Harry's friends who waited anxiously outside the door.

"Harry!" Hermione burst into tears as she ran to his bedside. Ron followed her, looking somber.

"How did you...?"

"Malfoy. He owled us right after it happened and asked us to come. Dottie explained everything when we arrived. Mate, I'm so sorry—"

"I can't believe we didn't realize!" Hermione sobbed, squeezing Harry's hand. "We should have noticed that something was wrong! I mean, we did notice that he was acting odd when we fire called, but we didn't know—"

Harry smiled at her, shaking his head. "Stop Hermione, it's okay. You guys have been preoccupied. Rosie is a handful, and with another on the way—"

Hermione's head jerked up to look at him, then she turned and smacked Ron on the chest. "Ronald!"

Harry chuckled. "Sorry, mate. Forgot I wasn't supposed to know that yet."

"When did you tell him?"

"Erm," Ron rubbed the back of his neck, "we met at the Leaky Cauldron after work a couple days after we found out, and— What? I was excited! And it's _Harry!"_

Hermione rolled her eyes, then smiled at Ron fondly.

Harry grinned at them both. "Congratulations."

He tried and failed to stifle a yawn, his eyes starting to grow heavy despite having just woken up.

Hermione noticed. "We'd better let you get some rest. We'll arrange another day to visit soon, okay?"

"Thanks, 'Mione, thanks, Ron."

"See you later, Mate."


	8. You're in Love With Him

Draco was in his lab, tearing at his hair in frustration when the stroke of inspiration hit him.

He jumped up and started gathering ingredients.

It took all night, but as the sun rose the next morning he stared into a bubbling cauldron, hoping against all hope that he'd found a solution to counter the potion that had been on the knife.

He didn't bother with his appearance this time. He scooped up a vial of the potion and made his way to Harry's room as quickly as he could.

He burst in, only to realize that Harry was still fast asleep. Not surprising, given that it was barely 5:30 in the morning.

Draco froze a few feet from the bed, watching the other man. He was curled on his side, a blanket wrapped around him. He would have looked peaceful, except that his breathing was ragged and his skin was starting to take on a gray tinge.

"Oh, _Harry_..."

Draco crouched beside the bed. He reached out and ran a tentative hand over his forehead, which was burning. _There's the feve_ _r_.

"Harry."

Startling green eyes fluttered open.

"I have a potion I need you to take. Then you can go back to sleep, okay?"

"M'kay."

Draco helped him sit up while Harry drank the lavender-colored potion, then helped him lie back down on his pillow.

"Hurts, Draco," Harry mumbled.

"I know, Harry. I'm going to fix it, I promise." Draco brushed his fingers over Harry's forehead again, moving a few stray inky black locks of hair off of his face. Harry leaned into Draco's hand, sighing softly as he drifted off again, his ragged breaths slowing.

"You're going to be okay, Harry. You _have_ to be okay." Draco sank to his knees beside the bed, a choked sob escaping his lips.

"You're in love with him."

Draco started, turning to look at Dottie. He hadn't even heard her come in.

He scrunched up his face, fighting to reign in his emotions. He gave up and nodded, pressing his lips together as tears threatened to fall.

"How long?"

"Since the moment we met," Draco whispered, his voice catching. "when we were eleven.

"I didn't even know who he was. I didn't know what I was feeling. I just knew that I... I wanted him. I wanted to be near him. I wanted to impress him."

He choked out a laugh. "I was a stuck up prat, though—A stupid kid. I alienated him and we ended up enemies instead. But now things are different, and I had hoped that maybe we could at least be friends, if he..."

His voice trailed off as he glanced up at Harry, the sight of his pale, sickly face sending a shudder through the blond. _He can't die. Please let this potion work. It_ has _to work._

Dottie knelt beside him and pulled him into a hug. "Well, then save him. And then go _get_ him."

Draco sobbed against her shoulder. "No. It's a pathetic fantasy, Hewitt. Harry Potter would never want _me_."

"Oh, come _on_ , Draco," she sputtered, breaking the professional code at St. Mungo's for a moment to use his first name, "haven't you been paying attention at all? He managed to ask you out on a date _while_ under the influence of a love potion. Do you know how ridiculously impossible that is? Trust me, he may not be in love yet, but he definitely likes you."

Draco pulled away and stood, wiping at his eyes. "Thanks, Hewitt. I'm going to go bottle the rest of that potion. I'll bring another dose to leave with you, then I'm going to run home to shower and take a nap. I've been up all night again. You'll stay with him?"

"Of course. I'll let you know if anything changes." She settled into the chair beside the bed and gave Draco a kind smile. "Get some rest."

"Thank you."

•••••

Harry woke to the pitter-patter of rain against the window. He kept his eyes closed, taking stock of his other senses.

The first realization he had was that the dull ache throughout his body had lessened, and that he was breathing easier. He took a deep breath and instantly regretted it, as he quickly discovered that his stab wound was no longer numb. Harry gasped as pain coursed through him.

"Harry? Are you awake?"

"Yeah. _Circe_ , that hurts."

A soft hand pressed his glasses into his palm. "Thanks."

"What hurts?" Dottie asked.

"My stomach wound. It's been numb, but now—"

"Let me see!" Dottie darted forward, tearing his robe down to his waist.

"Easy, Dot! I'm injured!" Harry teased, grimacing in pain.

She grinned at him, then continued to remove the bandage.

He marveled at the change in her in the past two days.

She examined the bleeding wound. The blackness had completely faded and the blood was clotting perfectly. It was just a normal stab wound now. Painful, but treatable.

"He did it! He really did it! Yes!"

Dottie noticed that Harry's skin had also returned to its normal color. She kissed his caramel and pink and not-grey-at-all cheek, then began replacing his bandage, bouncing on her toes excitedly.

Harry gaped at her. "Dottie?"

"Yes?"

"What changed? You're... Different."

"You mean why am I not acting like a shy, simpering idiot around you anymore?"

"Er... yeah?"

"Simple. I've moved on."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"It would have never worked out between us, darling, you must know that," she spoke with a silly accent, waving her hand.

Harry chuckled. "I see... So it's over. Just like that?"

"Just like that," Dottie snapped her fingers, "I do hope we can remain friends, though."

"I suppose I can manage that," Harry snickered.

"Fabulous. I need to go owl Healer Malfoy and let him know the potion is working. I'll grab some breakfast from the cafeteria for you on my way back. Sound good?"

"Yes, thank you."

She left the room with a skip in her step, and Harry shook his head, bemused.

He grabbed the Quidditch magazine Ron had brought him a few days earlier, and started to read. 

•••••

Draco woke to the sound of an owl tapping at his window. He glanced at his watch and groaned. Two hours wasn't nearly long enough, but he sat up and stretched anyway.

Tap-tap-tap.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

He opened the window and a small St. Mungo's owl fluttered in. Recognizing Dottie's neat penmanship on the scroll, he felt his stomach drop. He unrolled it slowly, heart in his throat.

"It worked! You're brilliant! Come see!"

Draco ran his fingers over the words again and again. _Thank Merlin, Harry is going to be okay._

He pulled on his robes, styled his hair, and flooed to the hospital.

He walked into Harry's room just as the other man threw back his head and laughed, and Draco felt like his heart might burst right out of his chest.

Dottie was in the chair beside him, practically cackling.

She turned to look at Draco, laughing so hard she could barely speak. "You...dressed up...like a dementor...in third year...just...to mess with him?"

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "Yes, yes, my Hogwarts antics were hilarious. How are you feeling, Potter?"

Harry smiled at him, white teeth flashing brilliantly. "Much better, thanks Draco."

Draco's stomach fluttered. He smiled gently and walked over to the bedside. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Sure. Let me just—" Harry shrugged the robe off his shoulders himself, "Dottie nearly killed me doing this earlier—"

"Did not!"

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "You two certainly seem... Friendly."

"Dottie informed me that it would never work out between us. I'm using humor to hide my devastation," Harry deadpanned.

She cracked up again.

Draco shook his head, gently working on unwrapping the bandage. "You're both ridiculous."

"Healer Malfoy?" A tentative voice sounded from the doorway. A small medi-witch with curly brown hair was standing there. The three of them turned to look at her expectantly.

"Yes?"

"I'm working in the general potions lab today, and, well, I think there's something wrong with this one. It's supposed to be anti-nausea. Would you mind taking a look? Healer Grant says it looks fine, but I'm worried. I don't want to send it to be bottled and stored until you check it."

"Sure, McCleary. Bring it in, I'll have a look in a moment." She walked in, levitating a small cauldron of the potion.

Draco finished changing Harry's bandage and pulled his robe back up over his shoulders.

"One more dose of this, Potter," Draco handed him a vial of the lavender-colored draught. "In a few hours I should be able to heal you properly, and then we'll send you on your way."

"Thanks."

Draco turned and looked in the floating cauldron. He pulled out his wand and waved it over the bubbling orange liquid. "The color is _almost_ right... But anti-nausea is finicky. One ingredient added out of order, and it can become a powerful acid, and—Yes, this is wrong. Thanks for checking—"

McCleary had stopped listening. She glanced around the potion at Harry, who smiled politely at her. Her wand dipped for just a moment, but it was enough.

The cauldron tipped forward for the briefest of seconds before righting itself abruptly, splashing a small amount over Draco's upper body. He reflexively waved his wand to remove his robes, tie, and shirt as the potion sizzled. Small red burns appeared on his hands and face where large droplets of the potion had hit him.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry, Healer Malfoy!" McCleary blushed furiously, using her wand to clear up the spilled potion.

"It's alright, McCleary. Hewitt, will you go with her and make sure all the anti-nausea potion brewed today is disposed of properly?"

"Yes, sir!"

The two women left quickly with the empty cauldron.

"Are you okay?"

Draco turned around to look at Harry, who had slid off the bed and was gingerly standing.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Are you—"

Harry took a step forward, then stopped short, staring at Draco's bare chest. Long white scars ran across it where Harry's spell had hit him years ago.

Draco watched mutely as Harry reached out and gently brushed his fingers over one that ran across his collarbone. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy. I didn't know—I didn't know that that spell would do this to you." Harry winced, regret written across his face. "It was written in the margin of an old textbook with the caption 'for enemies,' but it didn't say what it would do. I never should have used it without knowing what would happen. I wish I could take it back."

Draco closed his eyes as the memories of that day came flooding painfully back. "I tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on you."

"That doesn't excuse anything. Cruciatus isn't fatal, and it doesn't leave scars like this. I would have been fine. I wish your curse had hit me instead."

Draco's eyes snapped open and he gazed into Harry's, seeing the remorse there. "I forgive you, Harry. And I'm sorry too, for my part."

Harry smiled at him, and Draco suddenly felt as naked as he was. He shivered and grabbed his wand, painfully aware of Harry's gaze. He pointed his wand at his arm to heal some of the burns, but Harry brushed his hand away.

"Let me," he murmured. Harry whispered the healing spell and waved his hand over Draco's face, then his arms and chest.

Draco closed his eyes again. He felt a cooling sensation as Harry's spell passed over his skin. The stinging faded away. "Thank you, Potter."

"Harry."

Draco opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

Harry looked him in the eye. "Come on. We're friends now. Call me Harry. And not just when you're trying to irritate my psychotic ex-boyfriend."

Draco laughed, making no attempt to deny it. "I suppose you can call me Draco."

Harry's toothy grin in response made Draco's stomach flutter. He turned away to hide the heat that he felt wash over his cheeks. With a shaky hand, he pointed his wand at his clothes, repairing them quickly, and began pulling them back on.

Harry tried not to watch, he really did, but he found himself transfixed. Draco was slender, but his chest and arms were lightly muscled. His smooth skin was so pale that the faded sectumsempra scars looked silver against his skin. As he pulled on his shirt, Harry caught a glimpse of the dark mark on his left forearm. But, he realized, it wasn't a dark mark anymore. Still black, still scaly, but now it looked like...

"A dragon?"

Draco looked up from buttoning his shirt. "What?"

"Your tattoo. Can I see?"

"If you get back in bed where you're supposed to be until you're properly healed, you invalid," Draco quipped.

"Fine." Harry climbed back into the hospital bed, wincing slightly as a twinge of pain shot through him.

Draco finished pulling his robes on and walked over, tugging his left sleeve up.

"May I?"

Draco nodded, and Harry took his wrist with one hand, running a gentle finger over the tattoo with the other. The small two-dimensional dragon snapped at him, and Harry smiled.

"Hungarian Horntail. Nice choice. A dragon for your name, I'm guessing?"

Draco chewed his lower lip. "Yes. And I may have been inspired by the Triwizard Tournament... That beast was terrifying."

"You don't have to tell me!" Harry joked.

"You didn't look terrified."

"Are you _kidding_? I was shaking on my broomstick! I thought I was going to die for sure."

Draco smiled at him, "I'm glad you didn't."

Harry's expression darkened for a moment, then returned to normal. "Me too."

Harry traced the dragon again, smiling softly as it snapped at his finger again. "Feisty little thing, isn't she?"

Draco chuckled. "Yeah. Most Horntails are, apparently."

"I can attest to that. I can't believe they were able to cover it. Your tattoo artist was very good."

"Well, it faded quite a bit after... You know. But yes, she did a very good job."

Harry released his arm and Draco tugged his sleeve back down, already missing the warmth of his hands.

"Thanks for letting me see it."

"No problem. I need to go check on another patient, but I'll be back in a few hours to check your wound. Hopefully I'll be able to heal it completely and you can go home."

Harry's bright, typically-expressive eyes were inscrutable as they met Draco's. "Okay. See you."


	9. Everybody Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️ Trigger Warning—Miscarriage

Nearly two months had passed since Harry had been healed and left St. Mungo's that day, and Draco felt like he was going completely barmy.

He had received a package the next morning containing a small, moving replica of a Hungarian Horntail with a note:

Draco,  
Her name is Evike, Vik for short. She's been with me since the tournament—They used them to tell us which dragon we'd be facing. She's been dormant for a while, but a little kick of magic woke her up. Thought you might like her.   
Harry  
  
P.S. Happy Birthday

How Harry had known it was Draco's birthday a few days after he was discharged was a mystery, but if he'd had to guess, Draco's money was on Dottie. Not that he minded—The fact that Harry had taken the time to send him a gift had turned what he'd planned on being an ordinary, boring day at work with little-to-no fanfare into his best birthday in years.

The tiny dragon had paced around her tiny crate furiously, spitting little spouts of fire and snapping her jaws.

Draco had loved her instantly. He kept his little magical pet on his desk in a fire-proof glass case. He magicked a little forest with small trees and a rocky mountain cave inside and the little dragon seemed pleased with her home.

She reminded him of Harry, and her fiery personality made him smile. He eventually won her over to the point where he could put her on his shoulder while he worked in his lab and she would nuzzle his cheek and curl up and take a nap. Draco wondered if the original spell had given her this much personality, or if that had come from Harry's magic.

But now, looking at her was starting to annoy him.

Harry Potter was ignoring him _again_. The-git-who-lived-to-torment-him had not responded to any of his three his carefully written letters since.

Draco slumped at his desk, his head thumping against the solid wood. Evike hissed in his ear, annoyed at being startled.

"Sorry, sweet girl." Draco picked her up and set her in her glass case, carefully closing and latching the door. She eyed him beadily before curling up again and going back to sleep.

•••••

A few hours later, Dottie Hewitt burst into his office, making him jump.

"Malfoy. The emergency department is overwhelmed. It's just Thomas and Grant this afternoon, and a bunch of injured Aurors just came in. Can you help? There's a patient in room 284 who needs immediate attention. I think she's one of Harry Potter's friends."

Draco nodded, marking his place in the book he'd been reading for research. "Hermione Granger-Weasley?"

"That's the one."

"Let's go." Draco picked up his pace, hurrying toward the second floor.

•••••

The next morning, Draco flooed home from the hospital and collapsed on his bed. He was overwhelmed by exhaustion and heartache. He was sure he would never get used to this part of being a healer.

Ron Weasley's grief-stricken face swam before his eyes as he remembered the previous night.

_The man had sunk into a chair at the end of the bed, sobbing into his arms._

_Hermione had looked pale and sickly, still recovering from the blood loss, and her eyes had been filled with tears that spilled silently down her cheeks. Draco had sat beside the bed and cried with her, apologizing over and over. He'd failed them, and it hurt. He'd held her hand as she sobbed—the heartache emanating from her had been palpable, hanging heavy in the air._

_Then she had said something that had startled him. "Malfoy, I need Harry."_

_"What?"_

_"Please. He's closed his floo, and he's been ignoring our owls. I need him." She'd squeezed his hand tightly. "He's the closest thing I have to a brother. He's my family. Please, Malfoy. I need Harry."_

_Draco had swallowed and nodded, and she'd released his hand. "I'll go get him."_

_He had turned and made his way through the crowd of Weasleys who had gathered and were watching him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion._

Squeezing his eyes shut tight to try and clear the painful images from his mind, he succumbed to exhaustion. Draco slept for most of the day, and awoke in the evening. It was understandable, given that he'd been up all night. But now it was time to complete his task.

•••••

Draco knocked on the door.

No response.

He knocked again. "Harry? It's Draco. Open up!"

Still no answer.

He pounded harder. "Harry James Potter, if you don't open this door, I swear—"

The door swung open. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Harry was wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and his glasses. His face was scruffy and his hair even messier. A bottle of firewhisky was in his right hand, his left hand curled around the door. The knuckles on both hands were bloody and bruised, and his muscular chest glistened with sweat. His emerald eyes were hard behind his glasses.

Draco took a step back at the sight, but he steeled himself and stalked past Harry, right into his flat, which was an absolute mess.

"Granger and Weasley said you closed your floo and wouldn't answer their owls or open the door. They're worried."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "So they sent _you?_ Why?"

_Great, he's an angry drunk._ "I don't know, but you opened the door, didn't you?"

Harry tipped the bottle to his lips and took a long swig of firewhisky, watching Draco closely.

Draco glanced around and noticed the enormous punching bag in the center of the room. _Well, that explains the knuckles._

"Are you okay?"

Harry glared at him in response, finishing his drink and banishing it to the waste basket across the room with a flick of one of his battered hands.

Draco stood his ground. "Harry, let me heal your hands."

Harry scowled at him for a moment, but then he nodded.

Draco tentatively stepped closer, as if approaching an angry bull. He pulled out his wand and waved it over Harry's fingers, whispering a healing spell that closed the broken skin and erased the bruises.

Harry was still watching him intently, but the look in his eyes had changed, slowly darkening with desire. He reached out and touched Draco's cheek, then ran his fingers through his hair behind his ear. Draco shivered and leaned into the touch.

"Thank you, Draco."

"Harry—"

"You're damn gorgeous, you know that? I've always thought so," Harry murmured. His hands slid to Draco's hips, gently pulling him closer.

"Harry, I—"

Harry began pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against his throat, and Draco gave in to the glorious sensation, his mind going deliciously blank.

Harry's lips and tongue moved slowly, languidly, up his neck. Draco tipped his head back and a wave of pleasure rippled through him. Harry nipped at his ear, and Draco whimpered. He knew that if he turned his head, even just a little, Harry's lips would be on his, and that wicked tongue would be tracing the inside of his mouth, and Draco _wanted_ it, oh how he wanted it, but... _Not like this._

_NOT LIKE THIS._ The thought hit him again like a battering ram, smashing through his lust-induced stupor.

"Harry. Stop."

To his credit, even drunk, Harry backed off immediately at Draco's command, eyes going wide.

"Oh. Oh no. Draco, I'm so sorry—"

"It's alright, Potter, just... Go take a shower. You're drunk and you smell."

Draco attempted a version of his trademark sneer in an effort to hide the pain he was feeling. It must have been somewhat effective, because Harry nodded mutely, looking thoroughly ashamed, and walked into the bathroom.

•••••

Harry woke up in his bed the next morning with a pounding headache. He groaned and rolled over, reaching for his glasses.

Maybe last night's activity _hadn't_ been such a good idea.

He shot up in his bed as memories from the previous night hit him. _Shit! Draco came over last night._ He groaned again when he remembered how he'd acted. _Shit. Shit. Shit._

Harry jumped out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, stopping short at the sight that greeted him.

His flat was spotless, and Draco was casually sitting on the sofa reading a book. He glanced up at Harry and snapped the book shut, setting it down beside him.

"Good, you're up. We need to talk. Sit down, Potter."

Harry sat in a chair across from the couch, hanging his head. "Listen, Draco, I'm really sorry about last night. I shouldn't have come onto you like that, I was drunk off my arse and—"

Draco put up a hand. "It's not about that. I have a hangover potion, if you want it. But, I have to warn you, it would be extremely dangerous for an alcoholic to take it." Harry's head shot up, meeting Draco's level stare.

" _Circe_ , Draco! I'm not an alcoholic!"

Draco just continued to stare at him, his face impassive.

"I'm not! I haven't been drunk for the last two months straight or anything like that, I just—" Harry ran a hand through his hair, "—I haven't felt like myself since before that git drugged me with love potion. Sometimes I just feel empty, like I can't feel anything at all. Other days I feel so angry that I can barely contain it.

"So last night I decided to try getting pissed and taking out my rage on a punching bag. At least I had control of my magic. There are worse methods for managing your anger."

Draco shot him an incredulous look, and Harry shrugged.

"There are _better_ ways," Draco murmured as he passed the vial of hangover potion over and Harry downed it. The pounding in his head faded away.

"I really am sorry for how I acted, though. I didn't expect to see anyone last night. Some birthday, huh?"

"Yesterday was your... Oh. I'm so sorry, Harry. I... _Why_ did you shut your friends out? I thought it was just me, but when I spoke to them they said that they hadn't been able to get ahold of you and they were getting worried."

Harry sighed, carding a hand through his messy hair. "I dunno. I just... I didn't want them to see me like this. Spending half my time in bed, or staring blankly at the television, or finding crazy ways to manage my anger. I _have_ been going to see a mind healer once a week. Not just for the love potion thing, but for the war, too. I never went, after. I should have. I think it's helping. I really am trying to get better, Draco. It's just... slow going."

Harry scrubbed his face with his hands, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I really didn't want _you_ to see me like this, either."

Draco's eyes softened for a moment, then tightened at the edges as he remembered why he was there.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid I didn't come just to check on you. I came to tell you something." Draco hesitated, his chest tightening as he though back to his shift at St. Mungo's the night before.

"What?"

"Granger," he murmured, "she came in because she was bleeding and in pain, and I was filling in for Healer Thomas again, and I—She's Fine," Draco added hurriedly as Harry stared at him in horror, "but... they lost the baby. I did everything I could, it was just too late. I'm so sorry, Harry. They should be going home this afternoon. I thought you'd want to—"

"Yes. I need to go." Harry dashed into his room and grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of black trainers, pulling everything on quickly. He summoned his wand and it flew into his outstretched hand.

"They're in room 284."

Harry paused. "Thanks, Draco."

He nodded. "Of course."

"Want to apparate with me? Or are you off today?"

"Sure. I'm off, but I still want to check on Granger before I go home. I made sure Hewitt would be the one taking care of them when she came in to work this morning."

"She's the best."

Draco smiled and took Harry's arm so that he could side-along. "That she is."

•••••

Draco led Harry to the door to Hermione's room, pausing just outside and briefly catching the other man's arm.

"Come by my office before you leave. We need to talk."

"Okay." Harry gave him a small smile and a nod. Draco opened the door, holding it for him and then following him inside.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, then her face crumpled. "Oh, _Harry_ —" She started to cry again, doubling over as she sobbed.

Draco watched from the doorway as the raven-haired man crossed the room and deftly scooped her up, tucking her head under his chin and climbing back on the bed with his friend on his lap. He stroked her hair as she wept against his shirt

Harry gazed at Ron, who was once again sitting in a chair at the end of the bed, until he looked up. When their eyes met, Harry slid to the far side of the bed and inclined his head toward the empty space.

Weasley understood and made his way over, climbing onto the bed beside them. Harry wrapped an arm around him, murmuring something that Draco couldn't hear, but based on the loving tone, he could safely assume that they were words of apology and comfort. Ron shuddered, leaning against his best friend's shoulder as silent tears fell down his cheeks.

The golden trio, bonded by friendship and war, inseparable as ever. Draco felt unexpectedly bereft at the sight. He slipped away, unnoticed, and made his way to his office to wait.

•••••

Two hours later, Harry stood outside that very office, hand raised to knock. He hesitated for a moment before knocking softly.

"Come in," Draco's voice answered.

Harry pushed the door open and walked inside, glancing around curiously.

Draco sat behind his desk, reading an enormous, ancient tome. He slid a bookmark in to mark his place and closed it.

"What are you doing?"

"Research," Draco shrugged.

At the sound of Harry's voice, the tiny dragon on Draco's shoulder stirred. She nimbly jumped from his shoulder to the desk and into Harry's outstretched hands.

"Hey, Vik." Harry brought her up to his cheek, stroking her head with a finger and letting her nuzzle him affectionately.

Draco stood, walking around the desk and sitting on the edge, facing Harry.

"How is Granger?"

Harry met Draco's eyes. "Not good, but they're going to stay at the Burrow for a few days. They'll be surrounded by family, so that will be good. She's also missed their little girl while she's been here, so hopefully seeing Rosie will bring some comfort. Andy's been watching her, so I'm sure she and Teddy have been having a great time..." Harry knew he was rambling, but Merlin, it was hard to stop when Draco's silver eyes were watching him so intently. Draco nodded along, watching him curiously.

Harry flinched, stopping his discourse abruptly when Vik jumped from his hands, to his shoulder, and then into his hair. She curled up right atop his head, tugging at his untidy obsidian locks with her claws and making herself comfortable.

"Ouch. Vik! My head is not a nest, you daft little dragon!"

At this, Draco burst out laughing, doubling over. It was an easy, friendly laugh, and Harry found himself staring at him for a moment in awe, despite his annoyance at the dragon.

Draco laughed until tears glimmered in his eyes, and then he finally attempted to speak through his snickering.

"Could've...Fooled...Me...Potter..." He laughed even harder, positively shaking with mirth as he watched Harry try to coerce the tiny creature back into his hands.

Harry shot him an exasperated look. "Are you done yet?"

Finally spent, Draco took a few deep breaths before responding. "Yes, yes, sorry... I needed a good laugh this morning. Thanks, Potter. Here, let me help."

Harry was keenly aware of Draco's close proximity as he stepped forward. He coaxed the little beast into his palm and set her inside her glass case on his desk. She hissed at him in annoyance, turning her back to them both.

Draco stepped back, smiling awkwardly. "There you go. Dragon free."

"Thanks."

"So I've been thinking about your rage problem, and I have an idea: Quidditch."

Harry stared blankly at him. "Quidditch?"

"Yes. I think the adrenaline could help. It won't fix everything, obviously. But combined with continuing to see a Mind Healer, and possibly some potions to help regulate your emotions better, I think it would be beneficial. We could—"

"We?"

"Yes, I was thinking we could play a seekers match, see how you feel after—"

"You still want to be friends with me?" Harry blurted, interrupting Draco again. "Even after I—"

"Came on to me while you were drunk?" Draco smirked arrogantly, "Potter, I'm well aware that I'm—What was it you said? 'Damn gorgeous,' I believe it was? That was not the first time I've been drunkenly hit on, nor will it be the last. So yes, I can overlook it and still be your friend."

Harry visibly relaxed, and Draco's smug smirk morphed into a friendly smile. "Have you eaten today?"

"Nothing since last night. I'm starving."

"Me too. Join me for lunch?" Draco was already grabbing his cloak and making his way toward the door behind Harry.

Harry glanced down at his extremely casual clothing. "Erm, yes, but, would you mind if I changed into something more... appropriate?"

Draco quirked a brow, his expression teasing once more. "I wasn't aware you knew what appropriate attire was."

Harry shook his head, grabbing Draco's arm and dragging him through the door toward the nearest apparition location. "Just come back to my flat with me for five minutes so I can change, you pretentious git."

Draco just laughed.

They apparated into Harry's living room, and he dropped Draco's arm.

"Five minutes. Make yourself comfortable."

"I'll hold you to that." Draco dropped onto the sofa unceremoniously, picking up the book he'd been reading that morning.

It was closer to ten minutes, but looking in the bathroom mirror, Harry decided that taking the time to trim his beard down to his usual light scruff that Ginny and Hermione told him made him look dashing, had definitely been worth it. The overgrown beard had made him look disheveled and sloppy. He brushed his teeth, carded a hand through his impossible hair, and made his way to his bedroom, smiling at the back of Draco's golden head above the couch as he passed.

Harry pulled on a pair of denims, a plain white tee, black converse, and his favorite black leather jacket.

•••••

Draco looked up when Harry exited his bedroom, and his jaw dropped.

Harry looked... Merlin, it was hard to put into words. Positively... _delectable_ , his brain supplied helpfully. Draco felt his mouth run dry.

Harry had been distracted adjusting the collar of his jacket, giving Draco the time he needed to compose himself.

"Appropriate?" Harry asked, looking up and giving Draco a facetious spin.

_The only thing better would be nothing at all,_ Draco thought, and Salazar, _that_ was dangerous territory for his mind to be wandering into. He shrugged, "For muggle clothing, I suppose."

Harry grinned. "Muggle clothes are more comfortable."

"If you say so."

"I'll take you shopping sometime and prove it to you."

And, Draco, elated at the idea of spending more time with Harry, found himself agreeing without hesitation. "Alright, then."

Harry grinned at him again and Draco felt a strange fluttering sensation in his stomach. He reached for Harry's hand and apparated them just outside his favorite restaurant in Diagon Alley. 

Once they were sat down at a table, their food ordered, Draco fixed Harry with another level stare.

"You seem... Better."

"Maybe my crazy stunt last night worked."

Draco snorted. "Unlikely. Maybe it's my dazzling presence and scintillating conversation."

"Maybe I just needed to go hungry for a bit?"

"Maybe you just needed a shower and a shave. Next stop: Hair cut."

"Maybe I just needed someone to insult my appearance," Harry teased, but his expression suddenly grew more serious. "Or maybe I just needed to comfort someone else in pain to get out of my own head for a bit. I do feel more... Normal. This afternoon."

Draco nodded thoughtfully, "I think you may be on to something there."

"I still want to play quidditch after this, though," Harry responded with a grin, taking a sip of his water.

"Oh, you're not getting out of that again, trust me."


	10. Healing & Hope

Weekly quidditch matches became a regular thing for them in the following months. And, as promised, Harry did take him shopping in muggle London, and Salazar help him, Draco couldn't help buying a few things. And then a few more. He didn't like admitting that Harry was right, but the muggle clothes he'd purchased _were_ damned comfortable.

Soon, they were spending massive amounts of their free time together.

Harry's mental health vastly improved. He'd stopped shutting everyone out and was being effectively healed by spending time with Ron and Hermione, which, in turn, was helping them heal as well. He also spent a large amount of time with his godchildren, Teddy and Rosie.

He moved apartments, started going for runs in the morning again to keep up his endurance in preparation for his return to work, and started smiling and laughing freely again.

He still saw his mind healer weekly, still had the occasional nightmare or panic attack, but overall he was feeling significantly better.

Harry knew his relationship with Draco had evolved. They were truly friends now, and the sight of the two of them around Wizarding Britain, while still the cause of whispers and speculation, was no longer considered news. They went out to eat, shopped for new brooms together, Draco dragged Harry to Madam Malkins for new robes, and even cajoled him into getting an expensive haircut that somehow made his messy hair look somewhat stylish. Harry pretended he didn't care about his new look, but secretly, he was pleased.

While their friendship was still platonic, Harry couldn't deny the feelings he had for his new close friend. He didn't know how Draco felt about him, however, so he kept his feelings to himself, even though it was starting to feel like torture.

•••••

One evening, about a month before his leave of absence at the ministry was due to end, they met on the Harpies practice quidditch field once more.

"You ready?" Harry teased.

Draco grinned. "As long as you're ready to lose."

Harry laughed amiably. "I guess we'll see, but you know, I _was_ the youngest Hogwarts seeker in a century—"

"Yeah, yeah. Save it for the pitch," Draco drawled, rolling his eyes.

They walked onto the field, eyes shining with excitement. "Alright, Potter. Here goes." Draco grinned, opening a small box and releasing the snitch.

Harry smiled back, mounting his new broom.

The gold ball fluttered into the air and whizzed away.

Harry glanced at his watch. "Let's give it a minute before—"

"Nope." Draco took off.

"Hey!" Harry jumped on his broom and followed him, laughing wildly. He relished the feeling of the wind on his face and the thrill of competition.

Three hours later it was starting to get too dark to see the snitch. Harry dove to catch it one last time, then jumped nimbly off his broom and collapsed on the grass, sprawling on his back and holding the snitch in the air. Draco landed next to him and dismounted gracefully.

"What are you doing?"

Harry smiled and patted the grass next to him. "Come and see."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Let me put the snitch away."

Harry handed it to him with a grin. "That doesn't count as a catch, you know. We're still 4-3."

Draco chuckled, "Alright, alright. You beat me. No need to get a swollen head." He tucked the snitch into it's designated space and buckled it in, then closed the box and tucked it in his pocket.

He walked over to Harry and extended a hand, "Need help up?"

Harry shook his head and patted the grass again. "You need to see this."

Draco shrugged and sat down beside him, gingerly stretching his legs out and laying down with his arms behind his head. "Wow."

The sun had gone down now, and the stars were unbelievably bright.

Harry turned his head to look at him. "Incredible, isn't it?"

Draco's mouth was parted slightly, his eyes wide with wonder. Harry felt the overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss him, but he pushed it away.

"You're named after a constellation, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can you see it right now?"

"Yeah."

"Show me."

Draco pointed out the stars that made up his namesake. "It's a dragon."

"A dragon, huh," Harry teased, "You're sure it's not something else? I don't know—Maybe a peacock?"

Draco shoved his arm playfully. "It's a dragon, you prat!"

Harry chuckled and sat up. "Okay, okay. Hey, you want a drink before you head home? I have butterbeer. And I can show you my new place!"

Draco was surprised, but pleased, by the invitation. "Sure."

Despite all the time they'd been spending together, they hadn't been to one another's flats since they'd gone to lunch four and a half months earlier.

Harry held out a hand. "I can apparate us there."

Draco took it and they whirled away, landing in a semi-dark hallway in front of a door labeled "Number 7."

Harry let go of Draco and waved his hand to remove his wards, then pulled out his keys and manually unlocked and opened the door.

"Come on in."

Harry's new flat was modest, but clean and comfortable. The decor was minimal. White walls, with a few paintings strategically placed. Draco noted that none of them moved. Muggle artwork.

The only moving photos were in frames on the fireplace mantel.

There was a large kitchen to his left, and a comfortable living area to his right. Draco could see Harry's bedroom through the open door. It was also tidy, his bed neatly made.

In a corner next to a window sat a large potted tree. In it, a brown spotted owl was watching them closely. Draco jumped when she suddenly flew to Harry's shoulder. He stroked her head affectionately and she nuzzled his cheek and nipped at his ear. "Henrietta," Harry smiled, "You're ready for a hunt? Yeah?"

Draco watched him walk over to the window and open it. The owl took off, quickly fading into the distance.

Watching Harry interact with something so gently—so lovingly—left Draco speechless. He couldn't help wondering what it would feel like to be loved by Harry Potter. Draco imagined it would be... _Exquisite_.

"Draco?"

Draco shook his head, recovering quickly. He raised an eyebrow. "Henrietta?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I let Ginny name her when I got her. But I suppose it suits her." Harry paused. "So, butterbeer?"

Draco shrugged. "Sure."

"I'll grab them. Make yourself comfortable."

Draco walked over to the sofa and sat down on the edge, taking the opportunity to examine the photos on the nearby mantel more closely.

Draco recognized most of the people in them. In one frame, a man who looked remarkably like Harry smiled and laughed beside a beautiful woman with auburn hair and striking green eyes. Harry's parents. Another frame contained the entire Weasley family in front of the pyramids. Ron looked about thirteen in that one. Beside that photo was more recent photo of Ron and Hermione looking extremely happy while holding a wriggling and giggling toddler with flaming orange curls. A smaller frame beside that one held a familiar, and slightly mischievous, face with turquoise hair. Draco's cousin, Teddy. The next photo was of Hagrid holding a small wild animal and grinning excitedly through his beard. The last photo, resting near a pot of floo powder, was of Harry's parents again, along with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. All of Harry's favorite people lined up in a row. The sight was endearing.

Draco was distracted by a large black rectangle on the wall. A muggle... Tele-something? Draco had heard of it, but never seen one. Glancing at the kitchen again, Draco noticed several other large shiny things that he didn't recognize. Muggle appliances?

Harry pressed a drink into his hand and sat down next to him on the couch. "So, what do you think?"

"About what?"

"My new place!" Harry grinned.

"Oh." Draco turned to face him. "It's brilliant. But uh, why is there so much muggle stuff?"

"Oh, it's a muggle flat. The appliances and everything were included. I think I'm the only wizard in this part of town." At saying this, Harry looked nervous.

But Draco understood. "For privacy?"

"Yeah, I liked my place in London, but it was hard to get any time alone when I went outside. It was nice to be so close to the wizarding world, and I loved walking to the auror academy, but people would follow me, wanting to thank me, get my autograph, ask questions—It was exhausting. And then there were the memories there of my psychotic wanker of an ex—" Harry shook his head as if trying to clear it, "it was just time for a fresh start."

"I get it. That's why I sold Malfoy Manor and left the country for five years."

Harry smiled, "how _was_ your time in America?"

"Tea's absolute rubbish over there," Draco supplied, "but I enjoyed it. The anonymity, especially."

"Date anyone?"

Now there was an unexpected question. "Er, yeah, my roommate set me up with his boyfriend's mate. An American second string quidditch player. We dated for a few months, but it didn't last. He was a complete idiot. Great in the sack, though."

Harry burst out laughing. "No wonder you dated him for so long." Harry's eyes were teasing, but there was something else there that Draco couldn't quite place, a flash of anger? Jealousy, perhaps? _Ridiculous_ , he told himself, _that can't possibly be right._

"Hey! He had other good qualities... I just can't think of any right now." Draco blushed. Time to change the subject.

Draco cleared his throat. "So, do you use any of the muggle stuff in here?"

"Some of it. I was raised by muggles, and I suppose I prefer their way of doing certain things. Magic is brilliant, but I don't think wizards give muggles enough credit. Plus, muggle television is fantastic."

Harry watched Draco's reaction to these words closely, looking for a sneer of disgust or anger, anything that resembled the Draco he used to know. Instead, he only saw confusion.

"What does a television _do?"_

"I'll show you sometime, if you like," Harry smiled.

"I guess that'd be alright. Wait, didn't you also have a house? From your godfather?"

"Yeah, I sold it about a year ago."

"You never wanted to live there?"

"No, I didn't have good memories there. I just wanted to be rid of it."

"Why did you wait so long to sell it?"

Harry sighed. "Well, I had this house elf..."

" _You_ had a house elf?"

"Came with the house. Anyway, he hated me, but then I gave him something that had belonged to Sirius's brother, Regulus. After that he changed completely, decided he loved me. Anyway, Kreacher—"

"Oh. I remember him. I remember when he came to see Bellatrix," Draco whispered.

Harry nodded.

"I'm sorry, about Sirius. I didn't understand him at the time, but now I really wish I'd known him."

Harry closed his eyes against the onslaught of painful memories surrounding Sirius's death. "Thanks. I think he would have liked the new you." Harry tugged at the sleeve of his leather jacket, "This was his."

"It suits you," Draco murmured.

They sat silently for a minute before Harry continued. "Well, Kreacher, he lived in that house his whole life. I knew it would be really difficult for him to move, but I didn't want to live there, so I rented the flat in London. I visited often, though. Kreacher taught me how to cook using magic." Harry smiled, lost in memories for a moment.

"Anyway, he died about a year and a half ago, and I decided it was time. The house needed quite a bit of work before I could sell it, too. Kreacher and I had cleaned it up pretty well, but there were permanent sticking charms that required professional help to remove."

Draco stared at Harry. He found the way Harry talked about his house elf extremely attractive. He'd never been comfortable with his father's treatment of their house elves, he much preferred the relationship Harry had described.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I like that," Draco said finally.

"What?"

"The way you treated your elf. With respect and dignity. It's nice."

Harry took another swig of butterbeer. Draco found his steady gaze slightly unnerving.

"I like your new apartment, too. It feels bright, and open, and... welcoming."

"Did Draco Malfoy just compliment me? Twice?" Harry feigned shock, his eyes sparklingly behind his glasses. His expression almost looked flirtatious... Draco shook his head, dismissing that thought.

"Don't get used to it," he groused.

Harry smiled. "Right. I've been talking about myself a lot. Tell me about what you've been doing these last few years."

Whether it was the warmth of the butterbeer in his stomach, or just the friendly way that Harry listened, facing him with one arm resting on the back of the sofa, watching him and nodding along, Draco found himself talking surprisingly openly with Harry.

He told him about going back to Hogwarts. As Harry had suspected, that last year had not been easy for Draco.

He told him about his decision to change, to alter his life and his beliefs and take a different course than the one that had been laid out for him. Harry was reminded once again of Sirius, who had also veered from his family expectations.

He told him about his French roommate, Andrè, and more about his graduate work in the United States, and how much he enjoyed using and creating new healer's potions, and his new job at St. Mungo's.

Two hours later, Draco was spent. He finished his butterbeer and turned to face Harry. "Sorry, I've been talking for a long time."

Harry smiled. "It's okay. I like listening to you talk... Getting to know you better, I mean." Harry glanced at his watch. "It's getting late though. Nearly midnight."

"Really?" Draco yawned. "I'd better get home."

"Yeah."

They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other.

"See you Monday?"

"Yeah, lunch during my break?" Draco asked.

Harry smiled, "yeah, just owl me when you're ready to go. I'm going to go see Teddy in the morning, but after that I'm completely free."

Harry showed Draco to the door, waving as he apparated away. Once he was gone, Harry shut the door and leaned against it, pressing his forehead against the cool, solid metal.

He took a shaky breath, trying to tame the jealous monster in his chest. Draco joking about his ex being good in bed made Harry want to punch something.

_Was that what he wanted? To be sleeping with Draco Malfoy?_

Harry let out a groan of frustration. The answer was a resounding 'yes,' and he knew it.

He knew how attracted he was to him: Draco's poised presence and svelte body, his bright blonde hair always perfectly coiffed, his angular face and clear grey eyes, glittering with intelligence and wit...

And it wasn't just his looks. Draco had actively worked to become a better person in the past few years. He was kind. He was polite even in the face of the suspicion and discrimination Harry had witnessed when they shopped together. He made Harry laugh with his quick wit and drawling sarcasm. Draco saw right past the "Savior" persona and instead saw Harry for who he was... Just Harry.

Harry wanted to kiss him. Had had to actively stop himself from just doing it when they were together.

He wanted to push Draco up against a wall and snog the sense out of him, and then he wanted to— Harry stopped himself before his thoughts could get out of hand. He didn't know how Draco felt about him. They were just friends, after all. But there had been times when Harry had looked at Draco and thought that maybe... _Maybe_ Draco wanted him, too.

_Oh Merlin, I need to talk to Ron and Hermione._

•••••

Harry got his chance the next evening at one of Molly's Weasley Family Dinners. He walked in and was greeted by a cacophony of "hellos" from the various Weasleys.

He made his way through the house, hugging and greeting his proxy family as he passed.

He waved to Ginny and Dean, who were snuggling on the sofa, a glittering engagement ring on her left hand. He clapped Bill on the shoulder as he passed, and kissed Fleur on the cheek. George teased him about his new haircut, and Molly told him he was too thin and ordered him to eat more. Finally, outside in the garden behind the house with their young daughter, he found his two best friends.

"Harry! Hi!" Hermione hugged him tightly, then let him go. "You look good. I like your hair."

Ron was tossing his daughter in the air, who was screamed with delight each time. He set her down and hugged Harry, too. "Good to see you, mate."

"Uncle Harry!" Rose threw herself into his arms and he hugged her tightly.

"How are you, my little monster?"

"I not monster, I _Rose_!"

Harry grinned. "Of course you are."

"Rosie, why don't you go find Victoire? I think Bill and Fleur just arrived." Hermione suggested.

"I saw your cousin on my way in," Harry confirmed.

"Yes!" Rose leapt from his arms and took off into the house.

"You seem like you want to talk," Hermione murmured, "is everything okay?"

The three of them sat down on the back steps, and his friends looked at him expectantly.

"Yes, er, I just—" Harry paused, "Well, you know I've just been spending a lot of time with Draco lately, and—"

Ron and Hermione were watching him, wide-eyed, with nearly opposite expressions on their faces; Ron looked nervous, while Hermione was clearly thrilled.

"Go on," Hermione urged him gently.

"I—Well, I—"

"Out with it already, Harry!" Ron spouted.

"Ron!" Hermione smacked his shoulder.

"What? I can't take the suspense!"

"Okay, um," Harry spoke quickly, just trying to get the words out. "I think I have feelings for him, but I don't know if he reciprocates, and I don't know if I should tell him how I feel or not. I don't want to ruin our friendship, but I really like him... Help?" Harry finished in a whisper.

Ron looked as if he'd been hit upside the head. "You _like_ him? You're telling us that you want to _date_ Malfoy? Merlin, and I thought friendship was bad."

Harry nodded.

Hermione shot Ron a sharp look. "Don't tease, Ronald. It's not exactly a surprise, is it? You two were fixated on each other the entire time we were at Hogwarts—"

Harry started to protest, but she cut him off.

"Yes, I know, you hated each other. But there's a fine line between love and hate, and it's not surprising that now—as adults—you would cross it. It was _inevitable_ , really."

She gave Harry an appraising look. "My question is, why would you ever think that he doesn't feel the same for you?"

Harry shrugged, "A few months ago, when you sent him to come get me, I was drunk off my arse, and I sort of— Came onto him. He let me for a moment, but then he told me to stop. So I thought..."

Ron pulled a disgusted face, and Hermione smacked him on the arm again.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, "Draco didn't ask you to stop because he doesn't like you. He stopped you because you were _drunk_. Anyone with eyes can see that he's infatuated with you."

"Really?"

"Even I can see it, mate," Ron groaned. "Does this mean we have to start calling him Draco now?" 

Harry chuckled, and Hermione smiled sweetly at her husband. "I imagine it does, Sweetheart. I think we'll be seeing a lot more of him soon."

Ron grimaced.

Hermione stood up and patted Harry's shoulder. "Tell him how you feel, Harry."

"Are we done talking about Malfoy? Can we go see if dinner is ready? I'm starving."

Harry shook his head, amused, as he followed them into the house.

_Well, that went about as well as it could have._


	11. Inevitable

The next day, Harry met Draco at their favorite restaurant in Diagon Alley for lunch.

Draco was already there when Harry arrived, standing with his back to the door.

Harry paused for a moment and took in the sight of him. Draco was standing with his arms folded, his posture impeccable as always. He might look stiff to some, but Harry _knew_ Draco now. He could see the subtle lack of tension in his shoulders, the way he bounced ever so slightly onto his toes as he waited; It was clear to Harry that Draco was in a great mood. That thought made Harry smile. The light coming through the windows was illuminating his platinum hair. His forest green Specialist Healer's robes bringing his bright hair and pale skin into sharp contrast. Harry didn't think he'd seen anything or any _one_ so beautiful in his whole damn life. _Damn Gorgeous_ , he thought with a smile.

He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning every ounce of Griffindor courage in his body, hoping against all hope that telling Draco how he felt would be a good thing.

He touched Draco's arm in greeting as he stepped up beside him and was met with a warm smile.

_Here goes nothing._

•••••

Half an hour later, they were sitting at a small round table, eating and talking about Harry going back to work in a few weeks. Draco grinned when Harry leaned conspiratorially across the table.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

Draco leaned in too, appreciating the excuse to be close to Harry. He caught a hint of his cologne and had to resist the urge to breathe in deeply. The scent was intoxicating.

Harry lowered his voice. "I don't think I have it in me to be an Auror for much longer, Draco. I miss working, but this leave of absence has been really good for me. I feel... lighter. Calmer. Happier, even. I've been thinking about quitting and doing something else. Everyone expects me to be this great Auror, but... I'm only twenty-five, and I think I've had enough of fighting dark wizards. I'm exhausted. And I—" Harry hesitated, "—I haven't told anyone else. I don't want to disappoint... Well, _everyone_."

Draco looked into Harry's bright green eyes, now clouded with worry. A lock of raven hair had fallen onto his forehead when he leaned in. Draco wanted to brush it away, but he forced himself to concentrate. Harry was waiting for a response, anxiety written on his face.

"I think that you need to do what's right for you. The important people will understand. You gave the first seventeen years of your life to save the Wizarding World from Voldemort. It's okay for you to be selfish now."

Draco smiled and reached out to put a hand on his arm, gently squeezing in what he hoped was a friendly, non-creepy gesture. "You _deserve_ to be happy _,_ Harry _._ More than anyone _."_

"You think so?" Harry murmured softly, his voice suddenly low and heavy with emotion. His eyes dropped to Draco's lips, lingering there, and Draco swallowed nervously.

"Yes. I—"

Draco's response was interrupted by the arrival of their drinks. He jumped and removed his hand from Harry's arm.

An attractive waitress set the drinks down in front of them. "Sorry for the wait on these, boys... Oh! Are you Harry Potter?"

Based on the number of buttons she'd undone on her blouse before coming over, Draco had a feeling she already knew the answer to her question.

Harry barely glanced at her as he shrugged uncomfortably. Yes, I am."

"In that case, this is on the house."

"That's really not necessary."

She touched his arm where Draco's hand had rested a few seconds earlier, and Harry flinched, reluctantly looking up at her.

"Of _course_ it's necessary. You saved us all from you-know-who. I wish I could give you _more_ than a free meal and drink." She drew out the word 'more,' biting her lower lip and batting her eyelashes. "My shift ends in fifteen minutes, you know..."

Draco watched the exchange, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Harry's response to the waitress was polite, but firm. "I'm not interested. Thank you for bringing us our drinks." He gave her a slightly forced smile in an attempt to soften the clear dismissal.

The waitress huffed. "Fine." She spun on her heel and walked away.

Harry took a sip of his firewhisky and turned back to Draco, looking annoyed. "Sorry about that. I don't know why..." He waved a dismissive hand at the waitress's retreating back.

Draco stared at him incredulously. He knew precisely why the woman had come on to Harry, and it wasn't _just_ his fame. It was those muscular shoulders and arms, tugging at his long-sleeved black tee in all the right places. It was his emerald eyes, disarmingly bright behind his glasses. It was that charming crooked grin... Once again, Draco forced himself to focus and respond. He coughed. "Does that happen a lot?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, but I really wish it didn't."

"You're not interested in her? I mean, she was... pretty." Draco had to choke the last word out. He turned away, trying to conceal his emotional response.

The discernible jealousy in his voice gave Harry the sudden burst of Gryffindor courage he needed.

"Draco?"

The blond fought to reign in his emotions, attempting to compose his face into an apathetic expression before looking back at his friend.

"Draco. Please look at me." Harry leaned close again, placing a hand on his cheek and turning his head, forcing Draco to make eye contact. Harry's viridian eyes were dark and intense, and Draco's heart began to race as he looked into them.

"I already know who I want," Harry said softly.

"Who do you want?" Draco whispered, hope and longing rising up in his chest.

Harry lightly brushed his fingers over Draco's cheek.

"You, Draco. Just you."

"I want you, too," Draco breathed, suddenly feeling rather light-headed at the sight of Harry's soft smile as he leaned in.

He closed his eyes as Harry brushed his lips against Draco's in a slow, sweet, breathtakingly tender kiss.

Draco couldn't help the needy sound that escaped him a moment later. He ran his tongue over Harry's lower lip, begging for entrance. The raven-haired man responded beautifully, cupping his jaw with both hands and tilting his head to deepen the kiss, allowing Draco slip his tongue into his mouth and explore. Harry groaned softly as their tongues tangled together and Draco clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer across the little table between them.

In the kitchen doorway, a glass shattered in the hands of their waitress. "Told you they were on a date," her coworker crowed happily, snapping a picture. "Think the Prophet will give me some money for this?"

Harry gently pulled back after a minute, pressing one last sweet kiss against Draco's warm lips. He kept his hands on his jaw, watching as his silver-grey eyes fluttered open. They stayed that way for a few seconds, both keenly aware of the magnitude of what they'd just done, and each seeing their own feelings reflected in the other's eyes.

A slow smile spread across Harry's face, crinkling his eyes at the corners in the most endearing way, and Draco felt himself smiling back. He chuckled softly, lifting a hand to brush Harry's hair off of of his forehead, still slightly shocked by what had happened. " _Harry_."

The other man stroked his cheek with a warm thumb, his hands still gently holding his face. "Draco, I—"

He was interrupted by a soft tone indicating a tempus alarm from Draco's wand holstered in his sleeve. They both jumped at the sound, and Draco groaned in frustration. "I have to get back to the hospital."

"Come over after?"

Draco eyed Harry's delectable mouth again, wishing he could skip work, but he had important appointments to keep that afternoon. "Yes, of course. We should... _Talk_."

Harry's eyes sparkled playfully. "We _definitely_ should. Come on, then."

Harry dropped a couple of sickles on the table to pay for their meal and took Draco's hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world, dragging him out into the street.

Harry pulled him in for another quick kiss, then brushed his fingers over Draco's cheek again. "See you tonight?"

"Mm, yes. I might even be able to get out early. _If_ I were properly motivated, that is."

Harry laughed. "I'll make it worth your while," he whispered, trailing kisses behind Draco's ear and down his neck before abruptly pulling away and backing up few steps. He gave Draco a wicked grin and a jaunty wave. "Until tonight, then." He spun on the spot and apparated away with a sharp "crack."

Draco stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot, a wash of heat spreading over his cheeks. _What a bloody tease._

A second tempus alarm rang, shaking him out of his stupor, and he apparated back to St. Mungo's.

He finished with his appointments and stopped by his boss's office to let her know he'd be stepping out two hours early that day, "for personal reasons."

Dottie caught him on his way out. "Hey, you're leaving?"

"Yeah, I need to—Er, I have a date. And Mr. Parker in 357 puked all over me so I need a shower before I go."

"A da—with _Harry_?"

Draco nodded, an excited grin tugging at his lips.

"What's happened?"

"We kissed. At lunch today."

She shrieked, causing a medi-witch nearby to shush them loudly. "Tell me everything tomorrow."

Draco gave her a sly grin. "I'm off until Thursday. I needed to take a few days off this week, for 'personal reasons,' you see..."

Dottie laughed, but covered her mouth to muffle the noise this time. "Have... Fun?"

"Oh, I plan to." He winked and took off for the apparition point.

•••••

An hour later, Draco was showered, dressed in muggle clothes, and nervously knocking on Harry's door.

Harry opened it quickly, letting Draco in. He barely got the door shut behind him before Draco grabbed him and crushed their mouths together.

"Mmm, hello," Harry got out between kisses.

"You bloody tease," Draco growled, "I could barely focus at work this afternoon."

Harry just laughed in response, so Draco pushed him up against the wall and kissed him again.

Things heated up quickly, much to Draco's surprise and delight. He parted his lips and Harry slid his tongue into his mouth, drawing out a breathless moan in response. Draco tangled his hands in Harry's thick hair, biting his lower lip and smiling when he gasped sharply.

Harry broke the kiss and began trailing kisses down Draco's neck that made him groan with pleasure.

Draco pulled away to tug Harry's shirt up and over his head and ran his hands over Harry's bare chest, but he stopped and took a step back when he felt the other man freeze, his body suddenly rigid under his fingers, his breathing shallow and intense. Harry's hands balled into fists and he squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. _I'm so sorry."_ The dark-haired man's eyes were still clenched shut, his breathing unsteady.

Draco hesitantly set a hand on his cheek. "We can stop, Harry. We can slow down. We don't need to—"

"No." Harry opened his eyes. "I'm sorry, Draco. I want this. I just haven't since..."

"He drugged you."

Harry nodded. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing sweetheart," Draco admonished gently, "you've done nothing wrong."

"I want this," Harry repeated, giving him a grateful smile, "I just need a moment."

When his breathing steadied and his heart stopped racing unpleasantly, he pulled Draco close and kissed him again, his fingers deftly working on the buttons on the blond's shirt. He tugged it off his shoulders and dropped the garment on the floor.

Draco pulled back to look into his eyes, searching for signs of distress, and Harry smiled at him. "I'm okay." He reassured as he ran his fingers over one of Draco's Sectumsempra scars, leaving a trail of heat on his chest before he kissed him again, so fiercely that Draco could barely form a cognizant thought.

This couldn't be real, but it _was_. He could feel Harry's mouth moving hungrily against his own, smell Harry's cologne, that deliciously musky and sweet scent, with just a hint of citrus. He could feel Harry's bare chest, smooth and warm, beneath his fingers. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders, grasping at that impossibly soft black hair.

Harry took the lead, pulling him toward the sofa. He slid one hand behind Draco's neck. The other wrapped around his back, pulling Draco onto his lap as they sat down.

Eventually, one of Harry's hands found its way to Draco's thigh, then slid up to grip his arse. The blond let out a low, involuntary gasp and Harry abruptly pulled his hand away.

"What are you doing? Don't stop!" Draco hissed.

Harry chuckled against his ear. "Sorry, I was worried I'd crossed a line."

"You didn't," Draco whispered back, stroking the nape of Harry's neck reassuringly. He turned his face and their lips met for another breathless kiss.

After a moment, Harry pulled away, his eyes dark and slightly glazed. He glanced at his open bedroom door, then back at Draco. "Do you want to—?"

Draco pulled him close again, nipping at his lower lip. "Yes, Harry, I want to. But are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes. I trust you."

Draco grinned. "Well, then get back to kissing me, Potter."

Laughing again, Harry leaned forward and resumed kissing him for a moment before standing and setting Draco on his feet. Harry took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

•••••

An hour later, they lay side by side on Harry's bed, hands intertwined. Harry was playing with Draco's fingers, sliding his hand through them, then clasping them again. He pulled their hands up to his mouth and brushed his lips over Draco's knuckles. "You're incredible," he said softly, "just... absolutely perfect."

"And your moaning is positively obscene," Draco drawled, flushing in response to Harry's compliments.

Harry grinned and rolled onto his side, facing him. "You loved it."

"You're right, I did," Draco sighed, closing his eyes.

They lay there for a few minutes, a comfortable silence between them.

"Who would have ever thought you and I would end up here?"

"I imagined it, but I never dreamed it would actually happen," Draco whispered softly, wrapping an arm around Harry and snuggling even closer.

"Sorry I was so slow on the uptake," Harry whispered back, "but I'm glad we're together now."

"S'okay," Draco mumbled sleepily, "are we? _Together_?"

Harry turned and kissed his forehead. "I'd like to be, if that's alright with you."

"More than alright."

They drifted off for a comfortable nap, waking well after dinner time.

Harry used a muggle device he called a 'telephone,' and told Draco someone would bring them their food. He paid the man in muggle money, and introduced Draco to some surprising delicious takeaway from a nearby restaurant.

They ate from boxes, sitting on the sofa, facing each other with their legs intertwined. After they finished, Harry banished the boxes to the waste bin with a lazy flick of his hand.

"So, how do I compare to the quidditch player?" Harry asked lightly, feigning indifference.

Draco looked up, recognizing the significance of the question. "He was good, you're better."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, much, _much_ better."

Draco leaned forward and briefly pressed his lips against Harry's in a sweet kiss.

"Hmm."

"It probably helps that I actually like you."

Harry laughed. "So you're not just using me for my body?"

"Not entirely," Draco smirked.

Satisfied, Harry leaned over and kissed him gently. When he pulled back, he looked into Draco's stormy grey eyes, green eyes glittering with mischief. "Want to go again?"

Draco's eyes widened. "You're insatiable."

Harry bit his lower lip and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Draco snaked an arm around Harry's neck and pulled him into another kiss. He was helpless, the man was irresistible.

•••••

The next two days were a blur for Draco. A hazy, euphoric blur of tangled sheets, tender caresses, whispered words of affection, and conversations about everything and nothing. They stayed in Harry's flat, barely clothed, talking and making love and ordering in when they got hungry. It felt like paradise.

They read the Daily Prophet article filled with speculation about just _why_ Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, was spotted kissing Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, and tried to laugh it off together. Draco had made light of some of the harsh words that had been written about him, but Harry still apologized, trailing kisses over the lovely dragon tattoo that covered his dark mark.

"They don't know you like I do," he'd murmured gently, moving to kiss behind Draco's ear and along his jaw.

"I should bloody well hope _not_ ," Draco had drawled wryly, making Harry laugh so hard he'd had to step back to breathe. Draco had decided then that Harry's laugh might just be his favorite sound in the entire world.

Draco had caught Harry in his lie from months before about having been sleeping okay that first night, when Draco was jarred awake by movement in the bed. Harry was thrashing and muttering in his sleep.

Draco gently shook his shoulder. "Harry?" The thrashing stopped.

Draco slid closer and wrapped his arms around him from behind. "Harry, it's okay. It was just a dream."

Once awake, Harry turned to face Draco and tried to push him away. "Don't. I'm sweaty."

Draco shook his head and pulled Harry close again. "I don't care."

Harry had buried his face in Draco's chest, comforted by the smell of him and the softness of his own borrowed t-shirt. Draco held him and hummed a lullaby that his mother had sung to him as a child, and they both drifted off.

Wednesday morning had been the most eventful of the three days, when Ron and Hermione had come over unannounced. Draco smiled at the memory.

Shortly after breakfast, Draco had climbed onto Harry's lap, tugging the neckline of his shirt down and eagerly kissing his collarbone.

"Now who's insatiable?" Harry had muttered, tipping his head back to give him better access.

Draco laughed, then bit him gently. Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the table as Draco languorously kissed and sucked on his neck, leaving purple marks.

"Merlin," Harry gasped. Draco grinned against Harry's skin. He shoved their plates aside and stood, then deftly lifted him up onto the table. Harry laid back obligingly, and Draco quickly climbed on top of him and resumed kissing his neck, but now while grinding down against him. Harry rolled his hips, buried his hands in Draco's hair, and let out a throaty moan. "Oh, _yes_ , Draco—"

It was at that moment that Harry's floo burst into green flames and Ron and Hermione stepped through.

Harry and Draco froze, looking up at them in surprise.

"Harry, have you seen the paper yet today, because—Oh." Hermione's voice trailed off as she took in the scene before her.

Ron stood behind her, pulling a face and then turning away and covering his eyes. "Ugh! I told you we should have called first, 'Mione!"

Harry's face was flaming, and Draco's pale complexion was even brighter. He climbed off of Harry and took a seat behind the table, shifting uncomfortably.

"Morning, Granger-Weasleys."

Harry rolled off the table and took a seat beside him, stammering awkwardly, "Er, sorry, I wasn't expecting... Uh. What's going on?"

Hermione was smiling at them, while Ron still averted his gaze.

"I'm so glad you two finally talked," she said, trying to ease the awkward tension.

Harry nodded.

Ron looked like he might be ill.

This had irritated Draco, and he'd drawled, "You're lucky you came when you did, Weasley. Ten minutes later and you would have caught us doing more than just fully-clothed _snogging_."

Ron's ears turned red, while Harry rounded on Draco. "Seriously, Dray? Not helpful." Draco just smirked in response, completely unabashed.

Harry turned to Hermione, desperate to change the subject. "So, there was something you wanted to talk about? You came in talking about the newspaper?"

"Yeah," Ron responded, jumping at the chance to talk about literally anything else. "We thought you might be upset after seeing it, so we dropped Rosie off at the Burrow and came right over."

Harry and Draco looked at each other apprehensively, then at the still-rolled-up paper on Harry's table. Draco picked it up and slowly unfolded it, taking in the front page with narrowed eyes. He held it out to Harry, who took it and read:

................................................................

COMING SOON!

"I Dosed Harry Potter with a Love Potion for Four Months: A Tale from Azkaban"

ALL OF HARRY POTTER'S SECRETS WILL BE REVEALED IN A NEW BOOK BY WORLD-RENOUNED REPORTER RITA SKEETER AND NEW AUTHOR GEOFFREY RICHARDS

HAVE YOU EVER WONDERED:  
If Harry Potter snores? If he still has a raging temper? What his favorite foods are? Why he and quidditch star Ginny Weasley broke up? How he spends his free time? If Harry Potter is still traumatized by the war? If he is even fit to serve as an auror? If he brushes his teeth regularly?

ALL of these questions AND MORE will be answered in this book.

Coming to you: December 1  
Preorder your copy NOW!

................................................................

Harry read over it again, while his two best friends and new boyfriend watched him apprehensively.

Harry sighed, "Well, it's not surprising that hag Skeeter is involved. I'm sure she jumped at the chance to interview Geoff about me."

"I should have never let her out of that jar," Hermione said savagely. Draco looked at Harry inquisitively, but Harry just shook his head in response, mouthing the word 'later.'

"Oh Harry, what are you going to do?"

Harry looked around at the three of them, shrugging helplessly. "What _can_ I do? I mean, Geoff and I lived together for months. He does know my secrets. And the mundane details of my life, too. I can't believe that git."

"Well, I have a few ideas as to what we could do to him," Ron snarled.

"Me too," Draco agreed, and the look in his eyes made Harry a little nervous.

"Listen, I'm glad you're agreeing on something for once, but let's not do anything crazy just yet."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "We could speak to the legal department at the Ministry, see if we have a case against them? This is slander, it has to be. And I know I've seen a book that covers the details of wizarding publishing laws. I'll get it and read up on it when we get home."

Harry nodded and gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Hermione."

Ron walked over and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It'll be alright, Mate."

"Thanks, Ron."

Harry gave his friend a quick hug. "I know you don't understand this-" Harry murmured with a nod towards Draco, "but I'm happy. He's really changed. So try to get along, okay?"

"I'll try." Ron smiled at him, clapping him on the shoulder. "Maybe we can bond over Wizard's Chess some time. Salazar knows, besting _you_ is no challenge."

Harry chuckled amiably, not bothering to defend himself. "That's the spirit."

Ron nodded. "'Mione, we'd better get going."

"Will you be at the burrow next Sunday?" Hermione asked.

Harry smiled, "I think so. We haven't discussed it yet."

"Okay. Bye, Harry."

"Bye guys, thanks for stopping by."

Harry pushed the door shut behind his friends and leaned against it, suddenly exhausted.

Draco paused, standing next to the table, unsure what to do.

"Are you okay?"

Harry turned to glance at him and sighed. Then moved to the couch and sank onto it, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah. I should be used to this by now. He does know some things that could be... Damaging. Hopefully having Skeeter on the project with discredit him. She's not exactly known for writing the truth."

Draco hadn't been sure what to say, but he'd sat beside him and pulled him into a tight embrace. 

Now they were back in Harry's bed, the raven-haired man already asleep curled on his side and breathing deeply beside him, and Draco was steeling himself to go back to work in the morning. He had important work to do at the hospital and he knew they couldn't stay locked up in Harry's flat forever, but leaving their perfect little paradise in the morning was not going to be easy.

He sighed and rolled onto his side, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist and burying his face against his shoulder.


	12. Back to Reality

They were both gently awoken by the alarm from Draco's tempus charm the next morning.

"I don't want to go," Draco whined childishly, pulling Harry closer. Harry kissed his cheek and wrapped his arms around him.

"I know, Dray, but we can't stay in this perfect little bubble forever," Harry murmured, wordlessly summoning his glasses and putting them on.

"Can't we? It's such a _nice_ bubble..."

Harry sighed, lightly tracing patterns over Draco bare back with his fingertips.

"Well, for one thing, I have to give a speech at that Ministry Gala tomorrow night. And I'm supposed to bring a date..."

Draco jerked awake. "You _what_?"

"Come with me," Harry grinned, "please?"

"I don't—we don't—why didn't you ask me sooner? I need to buy new dress robes! And you _definitely_ need new dress robes, and—Stop laughing, Potter, you complete and utter berk!"

Harry leaned forward and kissed him. "Sorry, I meant to ask sooner. I've been a bit distracted the past few days, you know. Would you like to go shopping for new dress robes tonight?"

Draco scowled at him and turned away. "Yes."

"Come back here," Harry pulled at his arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

Draco shot him an indignant look and climbed out of bed, tugging his arm out of Harry's grip. "I'm not upset, I was just taken by surprise."

Harry rolled his eyes and got up, too. He walked over to his closet and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, a long-sleeve t-shirt, and his running shoes. Draco watched him dress, eyes roaming his body appreciatively.

Harry looked up and smirked. "You should probably get ready for work, Healer Malfoy."

"You want to get rid of me so badly?"

"You know I don't, but I _do_ know you like your job..."

Draco sighed. "Alright, alright. What are you going to do today?"

"Go for a long run, do some boxing— _With_ gloves!" Harry added in response to the look of disapproval on Draco's face. "Erm. After that I was thinking of going to the market for some fresh ingredients to make dinner... And after my boyfriend and I eat it, I thought I'd take him shopping for new dress robes and let him pick out some for me. And then I thought we'd come back here, or go to his place, and I'd shag him senseless." Harry shrugged, shooting Draco a mischievous grin.

"Being a bit presumptuous there, aren't we, Potter?" Draco walked over to him, and ran a hand down his chest.

Harry kissed him again. "Maybe just a bit. You want some breakfast before you go?"

"No time," Draco muttered, kissing him back.

Harry grabbed a muggle baseball cap from his closet and spelled his glasses into sunglasses. "Incognito run," he whispered conspiratorially, making Draco laugh.

"You look like a bloody tourist."

"Exactly!" Harry kissed him again. "Better go, or you'll be late."

•••••

"Draco!" Dorothy Hewitt shrieked when she saw him, drawing the eyes and disapproving stares of everyone else in the staff room. She pulled him aside, glaring right back at them. "Ugh, this isn't a bloody library! There aren't even patients on this floor."

He simply raised an eyebrow, shooting her an amused smirk.

"Come on, let's go to your office, I want to know everything," she said with a grin, dragging him by the arm.

"Don't you have patients to be attending to?" He asked drily.

"The others can manage for a bit. I'm taking a short break to talk to Healer Malfoy!" She hollered to Healer Thomas, who was also having a brief rest, sipping tea in a nearby armchair. The old healer nodded without looking up, waving a hand dismissively.

Draco let himself be dragged to his office, grinning like a madman.

Some of the expressions on the faces of his coworkers were less than friendly, some were even hateful as they looked at him, but he didn't really notice.

Somehow, telling Dottie about his new relationship made it feel all the more real, and he felt a growing ball of warmth in his chest as he spoke, leaving out the sordid details, but instead telling her of their many conversations, and how Harry made him feel, and how it was all so much better than he'd ever imagined.

She listened closely, smiling brightly at him, thinking to herself that she'd never seen the polite and serious and ever-professional healer looking quite like this: He looked so happy he was practically glowing.

Draco coughed when he finished, feeling very soppy.

Dottie stood and hugged him. "I'm so happy for you. _And_ Harry. And don't worry about that stupid article, or what anyone says—You two are perfect."

Draco shot her a look, and the light in his eyes dimmed slightly. "What have people been...?"

"Some people are angry. I'm sorry, Draco. But Harry is—Well, you know who he is. And there's speculation that you could have been inspired by his vile ex-boyfriend, because it's hard for them to believe that you and he could ever overcome the past and—It's stupid, Draco. Forget it, it doesn't matter."

"What? How _dare_ they—I took an oath when I became a healer! I would _never_ hurt him _—_ hurt _anyone_ —"

"I know, Draco. I know."

He sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "I told him I'd go to that Ministry Ball with him tomorrow. What if—?"

"It'll be fine." She touched his arm. "You just focus on Harry and ignore the rest, yeah? They're just jealous you snagged our handsome _Savior_."

He smiled weakly, his chest suddenly feeling unbearably tight, all warmth gone.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine, Dottie. I'd better get down to the fourth floor. The Longbottoms will be waiting, and you know how Augusta gets."

"Oh, _that_ I do. Best of luck. And Draco? Please, please forget what I said."

He nodded, holding the door open for her, "Of course. Thanks, Hewitt. You're a good friend."

"I know," she said with a small smile before walking away, mentally cursing herself for her big mouth. She hated that she'd wiped the smile right off her friend's face, even if her words _had_ been true.

•••••

The next evening, everyone in the ballroom entryway hushed momentarily when Harry and Draco entered walking arm in arm, then broke out into hushed chatter.

"Merlin, look at Harry!" Hermione whispered loudly to Ron. They had been speaking politely with some of her friends from work at the Ministry, but quickly excused themselves to make their way toward Harry and Draco.

Her outburst was justified, their best friend looked _different_.

Harry was wearing fitted new charcoal-grey dress robes that showed off his muscular figure, along with the brightest smile they had ever seen, his dazzling green eyes shining behind his glasses. His black hair had been freshly cut in the same fashion as before, short and stylish.

Beside him, Draco stood as his equal, head held high. His buttery blond hair, perfectly coiffed as always, shone like a beacon under the bright lights. His pale skin was in bright contrast with his own well-fitted navy blue dress robes.

As Draco stiffened slightly, Harry leaned over, whispering in his ear and wrapping a protective arm around his waist as they walked further into the room.

The gathered media had noticed their entrance and rushed at them.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter! A word, Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned to face the throng of reporters who had swarmed them, looking calmer than he usually did when he was mobbed with questions and flashing lights from the cameras.

"Is it true that you and Draco Malfoy are in a relationship?"

Harry raised a dark brow. " _Obviously_ ," he drawled in his best impression of Snape back in the day. Draco sniggered, slipping a hand into Harry's.

"It's well-known that you hated each other at Hogwarts. What's changed?"

Harry shrugged. "We grew up. We got to know each other beyond inter-house rivalries, became friends, and then we realized that we both wanted to become... More."

"How do you feel about Rita Skeeter's new book coming out in December?"

"I—" Harry faltered, his gaze dropping as he felt his face flush. He knew he should have expected that question, but it caught him off guard all the same.

"You mean the book coauthored by the vile git who used a love potion to drug and take advantage of Harry for four months? He's not thrilled about it," Draco snapped.

"How do we know that isn't exactly what _you're_ doing?" A brave reporter asked, glaring back at him.

Harry stiffened as he looked up, his emerald eyes suddenly ice-cold. "He isn't."

The reporter recoiled slightly, clearly unnerved by the furious look on his face.

The bulb in every nearby camera burst, making everyone in the area jump.

Draco placed a soothing hand on his boyfriend's arm. " _Harry_."

Harry took a deep breath, calming his magic before it could get out of hand.

In spite of all this, the newswitch who had accused Draco seemed to summon her resolve. She stepped forward again and held out a small box containing six tiny vials of potion.

"Care to prove it? I bought these at 'Better Brews' this morning. They're still sealed, and they have tamper-evident seals so I can assure you they're safe. They're love potion antidotes, including the antidote for Amortentia."

Draco stared at her, mouth dropping open. "How _dare_ you? I would _never_ —"

Harry snatched the box from her and downed them quickly, one right after another, as if they were shots of alcohol. The group of reporters, and Draco, all stared him in shock.

Harry's face paled and he doubled over, his stomach turning as all of the potions hit it at once. The box of empty vials dropped to the floor, shattering glass at Harry's feet. Someone vanished the mess with a muttered 'scourgify.'

Draco was livid. "What the _hell_ , Harry? You were meant to have taken those one at a time! Drinking multiple potions at once is dangerous!"

His voice softened as he watched Harry sway, uneasy on his feet. "Luckily, the ingredients in love potion antidotes are all pretty similar. You'll be fine. Just give it a minute, the nausea should subside."

Harry nodded, closing his eyes.

"Damn your Gryffindor bravado, it's a wonder you've survived this long."

Harry laughed, then let out a groan of pain, turning and burying his face in Draco's shoulder. "You're right, that was stupid."

Draco wrapped his arms around him and looked over Harry's head at the gathered media crowd, his expression disdainful.

Harry straightened fully as the discomfort finally faded away. He turned to Draco and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

His gaze traveled over the group of newswizards and witches. "Satisfied?"

Draco's accuser nodded, looking sheepish.

Let me be _very_ clear," Harry said coldly, "I'm dating Draco because I _want_ to, not because I'm being tricked somehow. He's a good person, and I won't stand for—"

"He's a bloody Death Eater!" Someone exclaimed.

"No!" Harry all but shouted, "He _was_ a Death Eater. And he was _forced_ to become a Death Eater at sixteen-bloody-years-old, under the threat of his parents being murdered. He was just a kid! A terrified kid who loved his parents. Would you have done any differently, under the circumstance?"

"Well, I—"

" _I_ wouldn't have, I can promise you that," Harry spat.

Draco placed a soothing hand on his arm once more. "Harry, it's okay, let's just go find our table."

Hermione finally broke through the gathered crowd, pulling Ron behind her.

"I think that's enough questions for today. Please disperse." Her eyes flashed dangerously and she drew her wand. The reporters all quickly backed away, leaving a path for them. "Harry, Draco. Let's go find our table in the ballroom."

Harry nodded, glaring daggers at the entire group of reporters before allowing Draco and Hermione to pull him away.

They quickly found their places and sat down together. The other nameplates at their table indicated that they would be joined by the Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry's boss Gawain Robards, and his wife, Margaret.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione sympathized as they took their seats.

Harry nodded mutely, jaw clenched. He was still fighting to keep both his temper and his magic under control.

"Dottie warned me that she'd heard rumors—That some people were upset about our relationship. I had hoped they were exaggerated. Clearly not."

Ron shook his head. "If I can be okay with you dating Harry, I would think everyone else should be able to as well. They're not the ones who have to spend Christmases with you, are they?"

"Are you?" Draco asked quietly, glancing over at the ginger seated beside him, "okay with it?"

"I'm getting there, mate." Ron smiled, shrugging awkwardly. "We're calling before coming through the floo in future though. I don't want to see anything like—that—ever again."

"Fine by me. You know what, Weasley? You're alright."

Harry watched this interaction with an amused smile, while Hermione fought tears.

"I'm so proud of you two!"

Draco and Ron both looked horrified, and barely spoke to one another for the rest of the evening.

•••••

A loud voice, magically amplified by a sonorus charm, asked everyone to find their seats, as dinner would soon be served.

"Hullo, Potter." A gruff voice greeted him.

Robards helped his wife into her seat between Kingsley and Hermione, then dropped into the seat bedside Harry.

"How are you, Sir?"

"Fine, fine. I hate these events, though. You ready to get back to work in a few weeks?"

Harry nodded as the empty plates filled with food in front of them. "I'm looking forward to it, Sir."

"You're fully recovered?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, Sir, better than ever."

Robards glanced at Draco and gave the blond a rare smile, lighting his weathered face for a moment. "I can see that. Listen, how would you feel about coming back a few weeks early? I could really use your help on that case you were working before you left."

Harry's eyes widened in horror. "That case is _still_ —"

He glanced up at Hermione, a jolt of fear racing through him.

Robards nodded, lowering his voice. "We've been quietly putting families with muggleborns under the fidelius charm, one at a time, but there's just too many of them. It's stayed out of the press, but I can't keep it that way much longer. It's just not safe, they _need_ to know. Nearly the entire department is working on this now, but I'd really like you to head up the case again, if you're willing."

"I— _Yes_. Of course. I'll be back Monday. I didn't realize—"

"Potter. You were unwell, you needed time. But if you're ready to come back, we need you."

"Okay."

Robards nodded curtly and turned away, joining his wife and Kingsley in another, much lighter conversation.

Harry glanced over at Draco beside him, knowing he had heard everything, and gave his hand a squeeze.

Draco stared down at his plate, pushing his food around with his fork.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Harry's speech went smoothly—It was almost effortless after years of practice. Then he and Draco danced and chatted with Ron and Hermione until it was time to leave.

Overall, it was a lovely evening, but Draco was somber and strangely quiet, forcing smiles and small talk only when necessary. It made Harry nervous.

That night when they crawled into Harry's bed to sleep, he pulled him close and ran his fingers through his hair.

"What's wrong, Draco?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"You're not." Harry tipped his chin up and forced him to meet his gaze. "You've been on edge since my conversation with Robards."

Draco sighed. "I know about your case, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened.

"There have been rumors at St. Mungo's about mysterious attacks on muggleborns and explosions involving contained fiendfyre. I've been researching in my free time, actually. Trying to come up with something to counter it that we could give people for protection. But I haven't finished, and I—I didn't realize that you going back to work would give me so much anxiety."

Harry smiled, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. "I understand. I have to, though. I have to end this. The NDE's are—" Harry paused, his voice suddenly hoarse with raw emotion, "—they're killing entire families, Draco. _Children_. I need to stop them."

Draco sighed, looking into Harry's eyes; They were blazing with determination. "I know, Harry. Just... Be careful."

Harry pulled him close and kissed his forehead. "I'll be fine, Draco." He drifted off quickly, the hand stroking Draco's hair stilling and dropping softly onto the pillow.

Draco fought down the rising panic in his chest. Less than a week ago, Harry had confided in him that he wanted to change careers. And Draco had secretly hoped that he would. But, Draco mused, Harry was too much of a Gryffindor to leave when people were in danger and he believed he could save them. He was selfless to a fault; A bloody hero.

Draco took a deep, shuddering breath and fell into a restless sleep.

This time, he would be the one to wake in the night, trembling and gasping for breath after a horrific nightmare.

Harry slept through it, and Draco was grateful. He curled against him and pressed his cheek to Harry's chest, feeling it rise and fall with each steady breath. He drifted off listening to the comforting sound of Harry's heart beating.


	13. Into the Dark

Harry returned to work the following Monday morning feeling a strange combination of dread and excitement. Excitement to be back at work, and to see his friends and colleagues, but dreading revisiting the case he was going back to, which had very nearly led to his death six months earlier.

If not for Draco... Harry shuddered to think about what would have happened to him. A slow and excruciating death, he knew that much.

"Potter! Welcome back. We'll be briefing everyone on the NDE case this morning. Please join us in conference room four in fifteen minutes." Robards greeted him, cuffing him on the shoulder as he passed.

"Yes, Sir."

Harry made his way to the office he shared with Jasper Miner, who was already seated behind his desk, which was facing Harry's own strangely empty desk. He jumped up when Harry opened the door.

"Harry! Good to have you back, Mate!"

They hugged briefly, clapping each other on the back.

"Jaz, it's great to see you! How are you doing?" Harry noted the dark circles under his friend's eyes.

"Not as well as _you_ , lover boy." Miner punched his arm. "Not that you've had an easy time of it, I'm sure."

Harry shrugged, rubbing at his arm. "Not at first. I certainly don't recommend getting stabbed with mysterious knives or finding out you've been under the influence of a love potion for four months. Especially all in one week. But I'm doing better now. And being with Draco is... Well, it's nice. Better than nice— Incredible. Different. It's only been a week, but I think I might... Er, never mind. I know, I know. Soppy."

Jaz smiled gently. "I'm happy for you, Harry, really I am. But, you know what I think about us Aurors having serious relationships. Are you sure this is a good idea? It's clear that Malfoy is besotted with you, Merlin knows why, but even I could see it when I met him. Is he prepared for _this_ , though? Dating an Auror? Because I've seen the strain it can put on relationships, and I don't want you getting hurt. There's a reason Robards didn't get married until he was in his late forties and safely settled behind a desk."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, then jerked his head up to look at Miner as a thought struck him.

"When did you meet Draco?"

"Oh, I got the honor of hauling that repulsive ex of yours away after that nasty bit of business at St. Mungo's. I wasn't exactly gentle with the git. It was _truly_ a pleasure."

Harry grinned, "I'm sure it was. Thanks, Jaz."

"It was scary, seeing you like that— Knocked out and all pale and sickly from the knife wound. I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too."

"He's getting out soon, you know."

"Who?"

"The git— Geoff. He got six months for what he did to you. One month waiting period before his trial, then six months in Azkaban. Got off bloody easy, if you ask me. Especially since the dementors are gone. But that gives him, what? Another month or so?"

"And then he gets rich off that bloody book," Harry sighed.

Jaz grimaced. "Sorry, mate. Are you worried? About running into him?"

"Nah. I moved, and very few people know where the new flat is. Besides, if Draco ever lays eyes on him again... Well, I'm sure the murder will look like an accident."

Harry leaned back against his desk, smiling wickedly as Jaz snickered. "I'm liking this boyfriend of yours more and more."

"What about you?" Harry asked, "Still dating that girl we met at the Leaky last time?"

"Nah, that barely lasted a month. Now I'm—"

"CONFERENCE ROOM FOUR, EVERYONE. GET IN HERE, I HAVEN'T GOT ALL DAY!" Robard's magically amplified voice boomed, making them jump.

They grinned at each other and headed down the hall for their meeting.

•••••

Three weeks later, Harry looked up from the stove when the front door opened, smiling wide. Draco walked in, closed the door behind him, and hung his coat. Harry liked how comfortable it felt, Draco just coming into his flat after work.

Draco took a deep breath, "That smells fantastic."

Harry gave his wand a wave, making sure the meal would continue preparing itself, and walked over to him.

"Thanks, I'm trying a new recipe tonight. Hope it tastes okay."

Draco wrapped him in a hug and kissed him affectionately. When he moved to pull away, Harry tugged him back and kissed him again. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too. Those double shifts are too damn long. That's the last time I ever cover for Thomas. I'm exhausted, and I smell horrid. Can I shower and borrow some clean clothes?

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I actually got you something. Come on." Harry took his hand. "And you always say that, and then you cover for him again. You like the old coot; admit it."

"Never," Draco quipped as Harry pulled him into his bedroom. Draco eyed the bed and raised an eyebrow.

Harry laughed. "Not that! Here, look..."

He opened the closet. Harry had moved all of his clothes to one side. "I made room in half of my drawers, too. And in the bathroom. I was thinking, since you've been staying over a lot— I mean, you don't have to move in or anything, but I thought maybe, if you wanted to keep some things here for when you—"

Harry was cut off when Draco grabbed him and kissed him, hard. He stumbled until his back hit the wall and Draco followed, shoving up against him. Harry responded enthusiastically, sliding his hands into Draco's hair and deepening the kiss.

Draco broke away to suck on Harry's neck for a moment, then gracefully slipped to his knees.

"There's more to the surprise, if you want to... Oh. _Oh_. Dray, that's...Mmm..."

Harry lost the ability to form a coherent sentence. He leaned against the wall, tipping his head back in surrender...

A while later they finished on the bed, both panting heavily.

"So... You liked the surprise?"

" _Loved_ it," Draco drawled, kissing Harry's collarbone. "The space in the closet will be nice, too."

Harry snickered and pushed him away. "You're right, you smell. Go take a shower."

Draco grinned and climbed off the bed, but he paused and turned, suddenly serious. "I would, you know. In time."

"Would what?"

"Like to move in here, with you."

Harry put his hands up and his mouth curved into a mischievous grin. "Whoa, Malfoy. It's _way_ too early in this relationship to be thinking about that."

Draco grabbed a pillow off the bed and chucked it at Harry's face. "You brought it up, you git!"

Harry burst out laughing, knocking the pillow away with his arm. "Okay, okay, I guess... you can move in."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're impossible, Potter."

Harry chuckled again, stretching his muscular arms above his head and smiling up at Draco from the bed. "I mean it though, Dray. Whenever you feel ready... I want you here. It feels right, having you here."

Draco swallowed back a flood of emotions. "Harry, I— I honestly don't know what to say." He reached out and took Harry's hand, squeezing it gently. Harry's smile was so warm it made Draco feel like he might melt. "Thank you. I'll bring some of my things to leave here next time."

Harry hopped off the bed and opened one of the drawers in the closet. He tossed Draco a pair of light grey jogger sweatpants and a bright green t-shirt emblazoned with the Slytherin house emblem. "Here. The other part of the surprise."

Draco looked them over. "You bought something with the Slytherin emblem on it? And you didn't die of shame? Or burst into flames on the spot? I'm shocked."

"Well, the shopkeeper did give me an odd look. But hey, I _was_ almost a Slytherin, so..."

"You were _WHAT_?"

"Oh, Er— Yeah. The sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I sort of begged it not to, so it put me in Griffindor instead."

"Are you shitting me, Potter? We could have been friends so much sooner. We could have been doing _this_ ," he gestured at their naked bodies, "so much sooner! _Years_ wasted. Ugh! You tosser!"

"You are so bloody dramatic," Harry teased, pulling on his own pair of grey joggers and a solid black tee, "I didn't know I would be dating you fifteen years later! At the time you were just the prat who insulted my first real friend, and I didn't like it."

"Your first... Weasley was your _first_ friend? How is that even _possible_? Didn't you—?"

Draco faltered as Harry hung his head and his eyes dropped to the floor.

Draco's voice softened as he sat on the edge of the bed and stared up at him. "Explain... Please."

"You know that I lived with my aunt and uncle growing up, yeah?"

Harry sat beside him, running a hand through his hair. Still staring at the carpet, he spoke very quickly:

"They didn't like magic, and they _really_ didn't like me. They never told me I was a wizard, they told me that my parents died in a muggle car crash. I lived in the cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven. They weren't physically abusive... Well, most of the time. But they did lock me in my cupboard a lot, and sometimes I wasn't allowed to have meals, or bathe, and the only clothes I had were hand-me-downs from my cousin Dudley who was enormous, so nothing ever fit me properly. No one at school wants to be friends with the kid who smells, and dresses weird, and wears broken glasses. And Dudley was a bully. He scared away anyone who might have chanced it, just for fun. So when Ron and I hit it off on the train, it was a sort of a life changing moment for me."

Draco stared at him, aghast. "Harry, what the literal hell? How did I not know about this? I mean, I knew you didn't go home for the holidays, but— I had no idea."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't spread it around. I didn't want people to know, to pity me..."

Draco closed his eyes, a pained expression flitting over his angular features. "I'm sorry I was such an ignorant prat back then. I wish things had gone differently. I could have been... Another friend, at least. If I hadn't—"

Harry walked over to him and cupped his cheek. "Who you are now is because of who you were then. Who can say what would have happened if things had been different? Maybe it would have been good, or maybe not. But I like the way things are now. Don't you?"

Draco smiled weakly, "I suppose you're right."

A gentle tone from the kitchen let them know Harry's cooking spell was complete.

"Now go get in the shower, you, it's time to eat."

Draco did as he was told, emerging in his new loungewear. They tried Harry's dinner, which actually tasted quite dreadful, despite smelling good. Laughing hysterically together, Draco vanished the entire mess while Harry ordered take-away from a muggle restaurant.

•••••

Back in the field as an Auror, Harry stood back-to-back with Miner, firing off spell after spell. The group of NDE's disapparated, but not before Harry cast a tracking spell on them.

He cast a patronus to send for back up, and then he and Miner locked hands, following them with a 'crack!'

They landed outside a small cottage. It was just after 9 PM, and everything was quiet. Harry nodded to Miner, and they split up, Jaz heading toward the front of the house while Harry made his way round the back.

There was a piercing scream from inside the house, that was abruptly cut off. A woman thrust open the back door and began pounding against an invisible boundary. Her screams were suddenly muted, but the fear in her eyes was palpable as she shrieked soundlessly. Harry ran to the doorway, assessing the magic that sealed the house. He could undo the wards, but it would take him a few minutes. The woman disappeared for a moment, then reappeared holding an infant.

Harry startled, taking a step back.

"Take him," she mouthed, "please."

Harry shook his head. He would take down the barrier and save them both. He focused on the task at hand.

The woman slammed her fist against the barrier right beside his head.

"No. Take him."

She held the baby out. The barrier didn't stop him from taking the child from her as she passed him through. "He's half-blood," she mouthed, as Harry took the child in trembling arms.

Harry nodded, turning his attention back to bringing down the barrier.

Jasper Miner bolted around the side of the house. "Harry! Shield! Get down! They're coming!"

Harry cast a shield over himself and the infant, ducking down and turning to run while also shielding the infant with his body. He knew what was about to happen.

The house exploded, blasting them forward. Harry crashed to his knees, ears ringing, cradling the small child to his chest.

A spell bounced off his shield, and he spun around furiously. He shot spell after spell, incapacitating every NDE that crossed his line of sight.

Auror backup arrived, and calm was restored once again.

The fire burning the house slowly burned itself out, leaving a ruin of smoke and ash.

Harry passed the baby, who was understandably hysterical, over to a kind, familiar middle-aged witch from the "Infant and Child Protection" department of the ministry. It took a moment, but her name came to him: Agnes Torwall.

She gently rocked the baby, calming him, while a clerk from the Aurors department apprised Harry of the situation.

"Father was Terence Longren, Half-Blood. Died just a month ago in a freak accident at work. He was a potions inventor. Mother was Gertrude Longren, muggleborn. The mother and son were protected by a fidelius charm, so the fact that the NDE's found them means that—"

"They were betrayed by the secret keeper."

"Yes, Sir."

"Who?"

"We don't know. They chose not to disclose."

Harry sighed. "Alright. Thank you."

The clerk nodded and apparated away.

Harry turned to the witch still holding the baby, who was now calm and sleeping in her arms. "Charlie Longren," he told her, passing over a file that the clerk had given him. She magically shrunk it and slipped it into her pocket, expertly cradling the infant in the crook of one arm.

"Thank you, Auror Potter. I'll see that he's well cared for, don't you worry about that."

Harry gave her a weak smile, fighting back the raw pain that was clawing at his insides. "Thank you, Agnes. Please keep me informed."

She shot him a surprised look, but murmured "yes, sir," before disapparating away.

Jaz walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"The captured NDE's are off to Azkaban with the guard. We're all set except paperwork, and we can wrap that up in the morning. Go home, Harry. It's late."

Harry nodded mutely. But he didn't apparate home, he apparated straight to Draco's flat and knocked softly on the door.

•••••

Draco opened the door and gasped at the sight. "Harry?"

Harry reeked of smoke. He was covered in dirt and soot. The front of his robes and trousers were torn through, revealing bloody knees. His left cheek was scratched and bleeding, his eyes haunted.

"Come in. Are you hurt?"

Harry shook his head. "Not badly," he rasped.

Draco winced. "Let's get you cleaned up then, okay?"

Draco shut the door behind him, tentatively reaching for a soot-stained hand. He gently pulled Harry to the bathroom and into the walk-in shower. Harry stood silently, shifting as needed to allow Draco to remove his dirty robes, torn jeans, black tee, trainers, glasses, and underwear.

Draco turned on the hot water so that it rained over Harry's unsettlingly stiff shoulders, then stepped back and quickly stripped off his own clothes. He followed him into the shower and gently healed the scraped knees and scratched cheek. He then tenderly washed the dried blood and grime away, glancing down periodically to watch the darkness run down the drain. He shampooed Harry's thick hair, gently running his fingers through it to help cleanse away the filth.

When the water finally ran clear, he grabbed a fluffy towel and dried Harry off, then himself.

Tugging at his hand again, Draco led him to his bedroom and pulled back the covers. "Get in," Draco murmured.

"Thank you," Harry whispered in that unfamiliar raspy voice, climbing into the bed.

Draco pulled the covers over him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Go to sleep, Harry. I need to do a couple of things, then I'll join you."

Draco closed the bedroom door and sank to his knees, breathing heavily. He wondered how often Harry's job left him looking haunted and broken, and how many times Harry had gone home alone, looking like that, with no one to take care of him. _Too many._

Wearily, Draco rose to his feet. He went back to the bathroom and spelled Harry's clothes clean and repaired the places that were ripped. With a flick of his wand, they folded themselves and settled neatly on a chair in Draco's sitting room.

He pulled on his pajamas, brushed his teeth, then ran a shaking hand through his hair.

When he made his way into his bedroom, he found Harry already sleeping, curled on his side. His face was streaked with tear stains, and the sight broke Draco's heart. He climbed into the other side of the bed and slid over to him, wrapping an arm loosely around Harry's waist and pressing a gentle kiss against his bare shoulder.

 _This is just the beginning._ The thought came, unbidden, into Draco's mind, making him shudder and clutch Harry tighter. _It's going to get so much worse._


	14. Mine.

Light was streaming through the window when Harry woke the next morning. He rubbed his face and stretched his arms above his head.

"Hey."

Harry rolled over to face Draco, who was watching him nervously.

"Are you okay?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I shouldn't have come here last night, I wasn't in my right mind. I'm sorry. I must have scared you."

Draco carded his fingers through Harry's dark hair.

"No, Harry. I _want_ you to come here when you need me. Even if you can't talk about it, even if you just need someone to clean you up and put you to bed. I want to do that for you. Please let me."

Harry pulled Draco flush against him, burying his face in his neck and breathing deeply. "I don't think I deserve you," he murmured.

Draco blushed. "Now you're definitely not in your right mind. Have you _met_ you? You deserve better than me."

Harry shifted slightly, pushing Draco onto his back. He slid his hands into Draco's hair and started laving kisses over his throat. "Mm. Not possible. Doesn't exist."

"You're—oh!—crazy. Oh Merlin, don't stop," Draco gasped. Harry slid a knee between his legs, and the friction was absolutely glorious.

Harry chuckled softly, moving to straddle him and dipping his head to meet Draco's in a searing kiss.

•••••

"Thank you," Harry whispered later when they lay tangled on Draco's bed, both blissfully sated and sleepy.

Draco tipped his head up to look at him curiously.

"For last night," Harry clarified, running a hand through Draco's hair. "For taking care of me, for knowing exactly what I needed."

"Do you want to talk about it? What happened?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. I just— I can't save everyone. It's not something I'll ever get used to. It hurts every time."

Draco nodded. "I feel the same way. I'm not able to save everyone I try to help either."

Harry met his gaze, a wash of guilt flooding through him. "Of course you would understand, I should've realized—"

Draco cut him off with a brief kiss. "It's okay. Let's go back to sleep now, yeah? It's Saturday—We can get up later, whenever we want. We don't have any plans until tomorrow night."

Harry smiled and pulled him close again. "M'kay."

Draco fell asleep first. Or, at least, Harry thought he had, as his breathing slowed and his body relaxed against him.

But when Harry whispered into his hair, "I know it's too early to say this, but I think I'm falling in love with you."

Draco heard him.

•••••

The next evening, Draco found himself standing on the front step of a well-kept little country house with a blue front door. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea, Harry," Draco murmured.

Harry put a hand on the small of Draco's back and gave him an encouraging smile. "Don't worry. They're excited to meet you."

"I can't understand _why_. I was unbelievably rude to her last time we saw each other."

"Draco, you had just lost your mother. You weren't yourself. Andy understands that."

"I _was_ myself, I was just an arsehole back then."

Harry laughed and leaned over to kiss him. "You were grieving. It's forgivable, trust me."

Draco sighed and nodded. Harry knocked on the door.

Andromeda opened it and invited them in with a friendly smile. "Harry, Draco. It's so nice to see you both! Thank you for joining us for dinner."

Harry smiled back. "Thank you for the invitation. It's really good to see you, Andy. How are you and Teddy doing?"

"We're doing well. Teddy's been looking forward to your visit all day. He's—"

"UNCLE HARRY!"

A turquoise-headed boy came running down the hallway. Harry crouched down and caught him in an enormous hug.

"Teddy! You're getting so big!"

"You just saw me last week."

"Well, I still think we need to measure you. I'm sure you've grown since then."

"You're silly, Uncle Harry."

Harry contorted his face into an exaggerated scowl. "What are you talking about? I've never been silly. Not once in my entire life."

Teddy giggled, then glanced curiously over Harry's shoulder at Draco.

Harry turned and smiled at him, taking Draco's hand and pulling him into a crouch beside him. "Teddy, I brought someone for you to meet. This is your cousin, Draco. He's also my boyfriend."

Teddy held out a hand and Draco shook it solemnly. "It's very nice to meet you, Teddy."

Teddy gave him a shy smile before looking back at Harry.

"So you, like, hold hands and kiss and stuff? Like Auntie Ginny and Dean?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah."

"Ew. They kiss _all. the. time_."

Harry glanced over at Draco, who was fighting an amused smile. "We won't kiss too much around you, promise."

"Grown-ups are gross," the eight-year-old declared.

Andromeda laughed. "Well, on that happy note, let's go eat."

After they ate, Harry took Teddy outside to play with his practice broom out in the garden, leaving Draco to help his aunt clean up, a slightly awkward silence between them.

"You wash, I'll dry and put away?" Andromeda directed.

"Sure."

They washed the dishes in silence for a few minutes, each giving their wand a quick wave every few seconds, before Draco worked up the courage to speak.

"Aunt Andromeda, I—" He began awkwardly.

She cut him off with a gentle hand on his arm. "You don't need to apologize, Draco. I understand why you reacted the way you did. I sprung my presence on you when you were grieving. I'd hoped to help you feel less alone, but instead I did the opposite. I'm sorry."

The last dish flew into its designated cupboard.

Draco turned and gave her a small, grateful smile. "I didn't have to be so cold to you. You were grieving, too."

She shrugged. "Nothing hurts quite like losing your mother, Draco. Especially when you're as close as you were with yours."

"Do you think... I mean, would you tell me about her? As a child?"

Andromeda smiled. "I can do even better than that. I have photo albums that I can show you. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please."

When Harry and Teddy came traipsing into the house after dark, they found Andromeda and Draco laughing on the sofa, poring over photos as she told him about the shenanigans his mother had gotten them into when they were children.

Harry smiled at them and ushered Teddy over to the stairs, not wanting to interrupt.

"Time for a bath, kiddo. Then pajamas, and don't forget to brush your teeth."

"Will you spell the bath water before I get in so it won't get cold? And tuck me in and tell me a story before bed?"

"Absolutely."

It took an hour, but Harry finally got Teddy to bed and made his way back downstairs.

The photo albums were closed on the coffee table, but Draco and his aunt were still sitting on the sofa talking quietly. Andromeda stood when Harry walked into the room.

"Sit here, darling. I'll move to the arm chair." She quickly moved places before he could protest.

"Thanks." Harry dropped onto the sofa beside Draco and leaned his head against his shoulder. "That kid is exhausting. I need to take him off your hands more often."

Andromeda smiled at him. "Once a week is more than enough, dear. I only have a few more years with Teddy before we send him off to Hogwarts. And he's a good boy, really. He just has endless energy, like his mother at this age."

Harry smiled back wistfully. "Only three more years... He's growing up so fast."

"Yes, he is. So. Draco was just telling me about how this—" She waved a hand at the two of them, "—all came about. Where were we?"

"Harry got injured _again,_ if you can believe it,"Draco drawled, a teasing glint in his eyes _. "_ Stupid Gryffindor."

"Hey!"

•••••

They apparated back to Draco's flat that night after visiting with Andromeda for another hour or so.

Draco pulled Harry into a tight hug, running his hands over his back.

"What's this for?" Harry asked, squeezing him gently.

"I'm really glad you convinced me to come tonight. Thank you."

"You're welcome. It seemed like it went well with Andromeda."

"It did. I really enjoyed talking with her. Ever since my mum died I've felt like my whole family was just... Gone. But tonight I got a piece of it back. I'd like to see them again soon. Maybe spend more time with Teddy next time, too. Can we?"

"I'd love that," Harry murmured, kissing his cheek. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes. "I'd better head home."

"You could stay, if you like," Draco offered with a suggestive smile.

"Tempting, but I have an early start in the field tomorrow and _you_ are entirely too distracting."

Harry pressed a chaste kiss against Draco's pout.

" _Fine_ ," the blond acquiesced. "When can I see you tomorrow?"

"Erm... D'you want to come to the Burrow for dinner with me?"

Draco's eyes widened. "I'm not sure I'm ready to meet the _entire_ Weasley clan just yet."

Harry grinned. "I had a feeling you'd say that. Lunch on our breaks, then?"

"Okay."

•••••

Draco went to work the next morning feeling elated. Even more so than he had in the previous two months of dating Harry.

The words he'd whispered to him on Saturday when Harry had thought he was asleep rolled around in his head over and over.

_I think I'm falling in love with you._

It was surreal, really.

Harry Potter falling in love with Draco Malfoy.

It had been a dream, a fantasy. When he'd come back to Britain, he'd resigned himself to burying himself in his work. To finding fulfillment in his career, and nothing else. But now? Harry Potter was falling in love. With _him_.

Draco shook his head, a soppy grin on his face.

Before he knew it, he's gathered the necessary potions from his office and arrived at the ward where his first appointment of the day was. He knocked and walked inside.

Augusta Longbottom looked up at him, her severe gaze softening. Neville was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Good morning!" Draco greeted, "and how are my favorite patients today?"

Frank and Alice Longbottom sat side-by-side, their hands intertwined. They didn't respond, but they did both make eye contact with him, and Alice even gave him a slight, dreamy smile. Draco felt a thrill of excitement.

 _Progress_.

"Er... Draco? Are you okay?"

"Of course, why?"

Neville Longbottom shook his head. "I've just never seen you... Like this."

"Like what?"

"Um... Happy?"

Draco chuckled. "Well, that's because I am happy, I suppose."

Neville grinned at him. "Because of Harry?"

Draco shot him an exasperated look. "Yes, because of Harry. Now, then. Let's talk about our treatment plan, I've made some slight adjustments to your parent's daily potions, nothing major, but..."

By the end of the appointment, he was extremely pleased with his work. The Longbottoms did seem to be regaining some of their mental faculties. They recognized each other, and sometimes Neville. They made eye contact when spoken to. That was new. Progress would always be slow with experimental treatments like this, but the results so far were encouraging.

•••••

He'd spent the entire morning with the Longbottoms, chatting with Neville and Augusta and observing Frank and Alice to note any progress in behavior and responses to the conversation.

It had been a pleasant morning, but he was still looking forward to lunch with Harry when his break finally came.

He flooed over to the ministry and made his way toward the Aurors office, suddenly feeling nervous. He'd never been to Harry's workplace before.

He entered the Auror Department and was greeted by a forced-friendly smile from a pretty blonde witch. Her name plaque read: Margaret Pond, Auror Reception.

"How can I help you?" She asked.

Draco smiled back politely. "Hello, I'm here to see Harry Potter. Is he in?"

"My my. You're just as handsome as you look in the papers. You should see the way his face lights up when he talks about you, it's _really_ sweet." Her voice was saccharine, and her smile didn't quite reach her hazel eyes.

Draco felt his face color. "I... Oh. Thank you. Er... Is he here?"

"Let me check with Head Auror Robards." She wrote a quick note and it folded itself into a paper airplane and flew under a nearby doorway.

A few moments later Gawain Robards himself stepped through a door on the right side behind the receptionist desk.

"Healer Malfoy. How are you?" He reached out a weathered hand and Draco took it, giving him a firm handshake.

"I'm well, Sir. Is Harry in?"

"He's been in the field this morning, but they're wrapping up the raid. First success we've had in a while, I've sure missed that boy. Anyway, Harry'll be here shortly, I just got his patronus with an update. Should only be about five minutes—You're welcome to wait for him."

Robards indicated toward a small waiting area off to the left of the reception desk.

Draco smiled. "Thank you."

"Good to see you, Son."

Robards disappeared back through the door, and Draco sat awkwardly in a chair in the waiting area under the scrutiny of the pretty receptionist once more.

"So." She rested her chin on her hand, "how _are_ things?"

"Er... Good?"

"Oh, I'm sure they are. I had a little _thing_ with Harry once, you know. After the department Christmas party a few years ago, we'd had a bit too much to drink. He was _famous_ for pulling back then. Flat out refused when I mentioned any sort of relationship. Didn't even stay the night. I'm curious how _you_ managed to tie him down."

Draco felt his stomach drop, his elation from earlier rapidly evaporating. This petty little witch was trying to get under his skin, to get a reaction from him, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He smiled back equally sweetly.

"I'm not sure how to answer that, sweetheart," he examined the pristine nails of one hand. "I was out of the country then. But this thing Harry and _I_ have started years ago, back when we were at Hogwarts. Maybe that's why."

Draco left out the tiny detail that their obsession with one another at Hogwarts had been fueled partly by hatred and was not at all healthy.

"I see," she answered coldly, turning away.

Draco was grateful when the sound of raucous laughter broke the awkward silence.

A group of about twelve Aurors traipsed through the door and Draco's eyes sought Harry in the group, quickly locating the distinctive mop of black hair. Draco recognized a few of the others from treating them at St. Mungo's, while others were still unfamiliar.

"You should have seen their faces when they saw Potter," one of them chortled. "Eyes as big as saucers, and they just took off running— It was hilarious."

Another grabbed Harry in a headlock and mussed his hair, eliciting an indignant sound from Harry. "Good to have you back, Potter."

Harry threw the man off easily, jabbing him in the ribs with an elbow, "Cut that out, Harmon."

"Can't make your hair look any worse than it already does, Potter," the other Auror snorted.

"Harry," Margaret's syrupy feminine voice cut through the chatter. "You have a guest." A long, painted nail pointed at Draco, and the entire group turned.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the _boyfriend_." One of them drawled.

"Finally, I've been _dying_ to see him in person," an Auror who looked vaguely familiar said, "he's aged well since Hogwarts, hasn't he."

"Draco!" Harry's face lit up and he strode over to him. He had a long scratch down the right side of his face, but otherwise appeared unharmed.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I need to drop a couple things off in my office and then we can go. Come back with me?"

Draco flushed under the stares and outright sniggering of Harry's colleagues as they followed them through the door behind reception and down a long hallway.

"This is my office. I share with Jaz, but he's out sick today." Harry opened the door and let Draco inside.

"Don't forget a silencing charm, Harry," the familiar-looking woman teased, eliciting more raucous laughter from the rest of them.

"Shut it, Patil," Harry snapped back, shutting the door in her face.

Harry pulled a couple of tiny folders out of his pocket and they grew to normal size in his hands. He set them on his desk, then quickly shed his Auror robes, revealing his typical casual muggle jeans and white t-shirt underneath. He set the deep red garment on the chair behind his desk and shrugged on his favorite leather jacket. Finished, he turned around to smile at Draco.

"Ready?"

"Parvati Patil," Draco stated, suddenly remembering, "I remember her now. I wanted to tear her hair out at the Yule Ball."

Harry laughed and leaned back against his desk. "No need for hair pulling. I never liked her in a romantic way, and I was pretty awful to her that night."

"Can I pull out the receptionist's hair, then? That bint was asking for it, throwing your dalliance in my face before you arrived."

Harry looked guilty. "Bloody hell. It was a drunken one night stand—Three years ago! I'm so sorry, Draco. It was a mistake."

"According to her, you're not one for a relationship. She wanted to know how I managed to _tie you down_."

Draco felt a hot, twisting coil of jealousy form in his stomach as he spoke. "I have to admit, I'm a bit curious myself."

Harry sighed, gently cupping Draco's face in his palms. "Draco, I'm sorry about my... Er, _history_. I'm not proud of it. You're right, I haven't been in a real relationship in a long time. Not since Ginny, honestly.

"But it's not because I didn't _want_ a relationship. It's because I couldn't find anyone that I could be myself with, that I could trust not to use me for their own hidden agenda.

"I'd given up on it entirely until that day we got breakfast together. Even under the influence of a love potion, I felt something that day. Something _different_."

"Me too," Draco whispered.

Harry kissed him fervently, and Draco melted into it, wrapping his arms around him.

He pulled away abruptly. "You should know that I _am_ using you, though."

Harry shot him a confused look.

"For sex."

Harry laughed, the rich sound echoing around the small room.

"I'm serious, Potter. Your body is exquisite. I'm tempted to lock you in my basement and never let you do anything else."

"You don't have a basement," Harry snickered, pulling Draco flush against him again.

"You're right... Better get one. I'll work on that," Draco murmured, angling his head to kiss Harry again.

They kissed for a few more minutes before reluctantly separating and leaving to go get a quick lunch before Draco had to get back to the hospital.

Draco felt a shameful amount of petty pleasure when Harry draped an arm over his shoulder as they passed the reception desk. He could feel the witch's eyes burning into his back as they walked through the door.

The coil of jealousy in his stomach had cooled slightly, but he still clutched Harry's waist possessively as they passed and a single thought filled his mind:

_Mine._


	15. Three Little Words

_Three months passed._

While Harry and Draco's relationship only grew stronger, it was beginning to feel as if the world was going up in flames around them.

The Neo-Death Eaters were growing bolder. The news broke, and the Wizarding World was once again thrown into panic and chaos.

Harry begged until Ron and Hermione agreed to the Fidelius charm, with Ginny as secret keeper. They were safe, but Harry knew Hermione hated being trapped at home, unable to work at her Ministry job, and his guilt was compounded.

The stress was wearing on him, and Draco hated seeing it. Hated the anguish in his eyes as news came out about more and more murders. Hated watching as Harry came home more and more frequently with that haunted look in his eyes, covered in ash and sometimes blood, unable to talk about what he'd seen. Draco would simply heal his minor scrapes without comment, clean him up, and hold him close.

He was overwhelmed with his own work, which was growing more frustrating as well. After months of positive improvements with the Longbottoms, their progress had abruptly stalled and he hated feeling so helpless.

•••••

After a particularly grueling week, Harry knocked on Draco's door, dinner in hand. It was finally Friday night, and between their two busy jobs, they hadn't been able to find a single spare moment together, and it had been pure torture.

Draco yanked the door open, grabbing Harry by the collar and pulling him into a passionate kiss. 

"What was that for?" Harry pulled back and pressed his forehead against Draco's. He gently pushed him into the apartment and closed the door behind them. Harry seemed more relaxed than he had been lately, more himself. Draco felt a wash of relief course through him. He needed Harry, _this_ Harry, tonight.

"It's been a long day, Ry. Long week, actually." Draco cupped Harry's face and kissed him again, slowly and tenderly, this time.

Draco still blushed a bit using his nickname for Harry. Nicknames definitely weren't his strong suit. The first time he'd used it, Harry had cocked his head to one side and repeated, "Ree?" Draco had blushed crimson and apologized while Harry grinned and kissed him and insisted that he liked it.

The bag of takeaway hit the floor. Harry waved a hand, casting a stasis charm to keep the food hot.

"You don't know what it does to me when you do wandless," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Of course I do," Harry teased, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist and pulling him tightly against him, "it's why I do it."

Draco's snarky response was lost in another kiss that left them both breathless.

They moved to the couch and sank onto it, trying to separate as little as possible. Draco ended up on Harry's lap, straddling him comfortably.

"Mm. I like you," Harry murmured, trailing kisses along Draco's jaw.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Sentimental prat."

"Insufferable git," Harry responded, chuckling softly against Draco's neck.

"Fine. I like you, too." _Love you, actually._

Harry grinned, pulling back again to look into Draco's eyes. "Tell me about your week. What happened?"

"Ugh. _Really?_ " Draco pulled a face.

"Really," Harry ran a hand through Draco's hair, then down his cheek, "I want to know everything that's going on with you. You look exhausted."

Draco sighed, leaning into Harry's palm. He didn't comment on the fact that Harry looked just as tired, if not worse.

"Okay. So, the majority of my research at St. Mungo's is on an experimental method of restoring memories and mental abilities with patients who have had permanent magical memory loss or brain damage. There's been some progress, but not as much as I'd like. I started to get excited, but now I'm afraid it was premature. I've been fine-tuning my potions, working long hours every night, but... Nothing. It's discouraging, that's all. I'm fine."

Draco shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but when their eyes met again Harry saw the distress brewing in his stormy grey eyes.

Suddenly, the memory of a trip to St. Mungo's when he was fifteen surfaced and Harry's brow creased. He ran a thumb over Draco's cheek.

"Draco... Which patients are you working with at St. Mungo's?"

Draco gave him a small, tentative smile. "Frank and Alice Longbottom."

Harry beamed at him. "Seriously? Does Neville know?"

Draco gave Harry his trademark smirk. "Of _course_ he does. We've actually become quite friendly, if you can believe it."

Harry gave Draco another peck on the lips. "I believe it."

Draco blushed, looking down at his hands. "Well, I wasn't... I mean, you were there, you saw how I treated Neville at school."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "You apologized though?"

"Yes, the moment we saw each other again."

"And now you're trying to help his parents?"

"Yes."

"I think you're making up for it, then."

Draco's voice lowered, suddenly raspy with emotion, "His mother spoke his name for the first time two months ago. He broke down and cried. Hannah did too. It was, well—" He cleared his throat, " _that_ is why I became a healer. I just need to figure out how to restore everything. I want to see that joy on his face again. And on many, many other people's faces if I can get this treatment to work."

Harry stared at him, open-mouthed, as though stunned.

"Dray, I..." Harry shook his head in awe. "You are _incredible_."

Draco ducked his head, burying his face in Harry's shoulder, his blush deepening. "I'm not, I'm just—"

Harry tipped his chin up and made him meet his eyes. "You _are_."

The unmitigated adoration he saw there made Draco's heart flutter.

"I love you," Harry spoke the words reverently, his expression earnest and hopeful, startling green eyes watching Draco's reaction closely.

"I love you, too." Draco murmured, his voice trembling, feeling like his heart might burst. Tears sprung to his eyes and Draco swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions from spilling over. He buried his face in Harry's neck again, silent tears dripping down his cheeks.

Harry brought a hand up to Draco's chin once more. He tipped his face up and gently kissed him, both of them tasting salt.

"How can you love me? After everything?" Draco whispered, his voice breaking.

Harry took Draco's face in his hands, wiping his tears away and forcing him to look him in the eyes. "How could you ever doubt it? I know our history is messy, but this? Here, now? It's perfect. I love you."

Harry shifted, never breaking eye contact, his emerald eyes filled with warmth and love. He gently moved Draco off of him and onto the couch, pushing him onto his back and deftly rolling on top of him. Draco slid a hand into Harry's dark hair as he lowered his head towards him.

Harry pressed his mouth to Draco's and kissed him in a way that Draco had never been kissed before, with more passion and sweetness than he even thought possible.

Shortly after, Harry had worshipped every inch of Draco's body with his lips, tongue, and teeth, leaving him quivering with pleasure, and as the night progressed, all thought of dinner, and Draco's worries, were forgotten.

•••••

Harry woke up in Draco's bed the next morning feeling content, willfully disassociating from the weight that his work placed on him. It was Saturday, and he needed the break. He was on-call all of the time now, but there was no need to stress about work until they got a new lead or something happened.

He rolled over to reach for his boyfriend and found himself alone.

Listening intently, he heard low, angry voices coming from the other room.

Grabbing his glasses from the night table and his jeans from the floor, he swiftly put both items on, grabbed his wand, and stepped into the living room.

Draco was standing at the door, arguing with a large man with an enormous mustache. He reminded Harry vaguely of his uncle.

"Fifty galleons more? _Monthly_? You can't be serious."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," the man was saying, not looking sorry at all, "but the other tenants aren't keen on having a Death Eater living here. I'm afraid it's just going to cost you extra."

"Right," Draco growled, "Fine. I'll get it to you."

He slammed the door in the man's face and spun around, looking furious.

"What was that about?"

Draco started, noticing Harry for the first time.

He rolled his eyes, walking over to him. "Bastard is raising my rent again. Third time this year."

Harry opened his arms and Draco slid inside.

"No one is complaining, he knows I'm a model tenant. He's just greedy and it's a good excuse to bleed me dry."

"Move in with me," Harry blurted.

Draco pulled back, shaking his head. "It's too soon, Harry. What would people say? I mean, I'm—You know what I am. I put up with that walrus's rent hikes because this is one of the few places that will take me. I don't have much of a choice."

"You were sixteen and your family was being threatened!" Harry's eyes flashed furiously.

"People don't care about that, Ry."

"Well, I don't care what they think. Move in with me. My landlady is a sweet muggle grandmother who doesn't know who you are and won't mind a bit. Or we can get our own place together. We can even buy a house, if you want."

Draco stared at him. "You... you really want to do this?"

Harry shrugged. "Why not?"

"Why not?" Draco repeated incredulously. "I don't know. We've only been dating for five months..."

"Is that the only reason? That we haven't been together that long?"

"Well... Yes."

"But you love me, and you would _like_ to move in with me?"

"Yes," Draco responded breathlessly. _This was madness. Perfect, wonderful, fantastic madness._

"Then that's a ridiculous reason," Harry reasoned, eyes twinkling, "move in with me. Go tell that rent-hiking walrus you're moving out, and then come help me start packing."

Draco gaped at him. " _Today_?"

"Why the hell not?"

Draco laughed, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly excited. "Okay... I'll go tell him."

"If he gives you any trouble, tell him he can come talk to me."

Draco shook his head and walked out into the hall in a daze, making his way to his landlord's flat.

As expected, Mr. Newman was _not_ pleased by Draco's declaration. Losing Draco's exorbitant rent check each month was a difficult blow to take. He followed Draco, who had delivered the news and then turned on his heel and walked away, all the way back to his (soon to be former) flat, ranting all the way.

"Where you gonna go, Malfoy? Where else will take you, huh? Death Eater scum!"

Draco ignored him and opened the door, stepping inside and inclining his head.

The ranting red-faced man was suddenly met by a shirtless, intimidatingly muscular Harry Potter, who leaned casually against the door frame and twirled his wand between his fingers, green eyes flashing behind his glasses.

"You want to repeat that last one, Sir?" Harry asked, his voice dangerously calm.

"H-Harry P-Potter? What are you doing here?"

Harry's lips curved into a derogatory smile. "I've been staying here pretty regularly over the past five months since I started dating Draco. I'm surprised we haven't met. Although, I assume you only spout prejudiced nonsense when no one else is around, yeah?"

"Prejudiced— _what?_ I can't believe you're actually—I mean, I thought that was a load of garbage made up to sell papers. You two are _actually_ dating? Why would you date _Malfoy_? You know better than anyone what he is!"

Harry's lip curled. "That I do. If only the rest of you could put aside your bigotry for a moment and see him as he truly is as well. Now, kindly go and fetch his deposit for me. You'll be waiving any fines for breaking the lease early, as well."

" _What?_ " The other man sputtered.

"To apologize," Harry stated firmly, and his wand stilled in his hand, "For your rudeness." The subtle threat didn't go unnoticed.

"Er, right. Sorry. Okay. I'll be right back."

Harry glanced at Draco, who was quietly packing up the kitchen, lips twitching into an amused half-smile.

•••••

Harry was called away to work that afternoon, so Draco finished moving the rest of his belongings through the floo alone, leaving Harry's flat— _their_ flat—a mess of hastily-packed boxes.

Once everything was moved over, he set the keys to his old place on the counter and stepped through into his new home, closing the floo behind him.

He was still unpacking that evening when Harry staggered into the apartment, glasses askew, his face covered in scratches and blood and his nose bent at a funny angle.

"Dray?"

Draco jumped, dropping the glass bowl he'd been placing in a kitchen cupboard. It shattered, but he ignored it and darted over. "Harry! What the hell happened?"

"Found a hideout. Scattered. There were too many—Fought, but I couldn't—I'm a bit banged up, sorry. Jaz took the ones we captured to Azka—"

Harry tried to take a step toward him and was cut off by his own collapse as he passed out. Draco caught him and heaved him onto the couch.

"Merlin, Harry," he muttered, pulling out his wand.

Draco set Harry's glasses on the coffee table and gently removed his auror robes, leaving him wearing only a white t-shirt and black boxer-briefs, and revealing more bright red scratches across his arms and legs, and a large burn on his right bicep. Draco tugged the shirt over his head and discovered more cuts and an enormous bruise over his left hip.

"A bit banged up? A _bit?_ Damn it, Harry." Draco's healing spells made quick work of the scratches, closing them up instantly. He winced as he pointed his wand at Harry's broken nose. "Episkey!" His nose popped back into place with a sickening crunch. Harry whimpered in his sleep.

Draco knelt next to the couch. He cleaned up the blood on Harry's face and opened his potions case, searching for a particular vial. He snatched the burn remedy and gently poured some over the burn, rubbing it in with his fingers. The salve took effect almost immediately, cooling and healing the skin. While it worked, Draco gently pushed on the large bruise, feeling for broken bones under it. Harry cried out, jerked awake by the pain.

"Sorry, sorry. Hang on, sweetheart. This is going to feel worse before it feels better. Episkey!"

Harry screamed and arched his back as his cracked hip healed, tears of pain leaking out of his eyes.

Draco whispered another healing spell and the bruise disappeared as well. Draco placed a hand on Harry's forehead, brushing his hair away and then kissing it gently. "Good as new."

Harry was still breathing hard, eyes shut tight, but the sharp pain was slowly fading away to a faint soreness in his nose and hip. "Thanks."

"Why didn't you go to St. Mungo's?"

"Knew you were here. Just wanted you." Harry was losing consciousness again, his eyelids getting heavy.

"Here, drink this, love, it will help you sleep better."

Harry let Draco pour a vial of a potion into his mouth, swallowing quickly. "Thanks," he repeated drowsily.

Draco summoned a blanket from the closet and draped it over him. "You're welcome."

•••••

Harry woke to a cool hand on his forehead, gently brushing at his hair, long fingers trailing over his skin in soothing motions.

He opened his eyes to see a familiar, albeit blurry, face.

"Draco, hey," Harry smiled weakly.

"You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"I feel okay."

"Good, because I'm going to _kill_ you. What-were-you-thinking?" Draco smacked his arm with each word for emphasis. You should have gone to the hospital! Damnit, Ry! You could have _died!_ "

"Ow! _Circe_ , Draco! I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking straight, okay? I didn't want some other St. Mungo's healer, I wanted you. I was exhausted and scared, and you make me feel... Safe."

Draco fought to restrain a smile. Not that Harry would have seen it anyway, he was practically blind without his glasses.

"That's—Harry, you're insane. The hospital has resources, and specialists, and more experienced healers, and mmmf!"

Harry had pushed himself up off the couch just enough to grab his face and kiss him. Draco pushed him away.

"Stop that. I'm mad at you. Don't _ever_ do that again."

"What—Kiss you?" Harry reached out and snatched his glasses from the nearby table. He put them on, grinning up at Draco.

"No! Come home injured, you tosser. Next time go to St. Mungo's and have them send for me. I can't fix everything, Ry. What if I couldn't—What if you'd had injuries that were beyond my skills? What if—?" Draco's face crumpled, and Harry was instantly contrite.

"Alright, I get it. I'm sorry, Dray. I'm sorry." Harry reached out for his hand. "Next time I'll go to St. Mungo's, I promise."

"Good. Because I just... I couldn't live with myself if—" Draco shook his head, unable to complete the sentence.

He had thought Harry was dead once. Had seen him lying there, limp in Hagrid's arms—and it very nearly broke him. The memory swam in front of his eyes, making him shudder.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm sorry I scared you."

Draco nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak. He leaned forward and lay his head on the couch next to Harry's side. He slowly calmed as Harry gently ran his fingers through his hair and over the back of his neck and shoulders.

•••••

The next evening, they had finally finished unpacking all of Draco's things, shrinking and putting away any furniture and other large items they weren't using in an old school trunk.

They kept some of Harry's furniture, and replaced some of it with Draco's. They had bickered cheerfully throughout the process, each debating the merits of their own belongings and deciding together which to keep out.

Harry's sofa won out, as it was infinitely more comfortable.

Exhausted and happy, they sat on it now. Harry sat up while Draco lay stretched out, his head in his lap. Harry stroked his soft blond hair absently, watching a muggle football game on the television.

"How can you watch this? It's boring."

Harry smiled, "It's not as fast-paced as quidditch, that's for sure, but that's why I like it. It's calming. Plus, I can watch it at home, with you, like this."

"Wouldn't you rather do something more Interesting?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know... _Me?_ "

Harry chuckled. "You're incorrigible."

Draco sat up. "Is that a no?"

"It's a..."

One of the teams scored a goal, and Harry's attention was briefly drawn back to the screen.

Draco folded his arms and turned away, pouting.

"Hey, whoa, Dray! Get back here." Harry grabbed at his left hand and tugged it away from his chest. "Come on."

Draco glanced at him imperiously, then looked away.

Harry rolled his eyes. "So dramatic. Is this how it's always going to be, living together?"

"Regretting it already, Potter?" Draco snapped irritably.

"Not at all," Harry laughed, a hint of teasing in his voice as he pressed a kiss to Draco's palm. "I still love you. Even when you're being inexplicably prickly and dramatic."

Draco laughed skeptically, but then he looked into Harry's eyes and saw the sincerity there, along with the teasing glint, and he felt a rush of fondness for him.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you say that," he sighed.

Harry grinned. "I don't think I'll ever tire of saying it. But you know, you're _supposed_ to say it back."

Draco smirked at him. "Turn off the muggle device and make love to me, and then I'll consider it."

Harry's grin turned predatory as he reached for the remote. "Deal."

•••••

The next morning they were still on the couch, bodies pressed together, arms wrapped around one another, legs tangled. A thin throw blanket tossed haphazardly over their lower halves.

Harry woke first, his body aching from Draco's weight on top of him. It was still dark. He yawned, rubbing at his face. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable, trying not to move too much and wake Draco. The blond opened his eyes anyway, lifting his head to peer up at Harry. "I love you," he whispered.

Harry chuckled softly. "I love you, too." He kissed Draco's forehead and glanced at the clock. 4 AM. "We should move to the bed, more comfortable," Harry murmured.

Draco was already falling back asleep. "Mmhm."

Harry carefully sat up, casting a wandless lightening charm and pulling Draco up with him so his head rested on Harry's shoulder. He carried him to the bedroom and tucked him in. Harry pulled on some pajamas and banished the discarded clothes they'd left in the sitting room to the laundry basket before joining him.

Ron and Hermione were coming over for breakfast, and he wanted to be somewhat decent if he slept in.

Sure enough, a knock at the door was what dragged Harry out of his comfortable sleep four hours later. He reached out and rubbed Draco's back.

"Dray? They're here."

"Who?"

"Ron and Hermione. We invited them for breakfast today, remember?"

"Oh. Right." Draco closed his eyes again.

Harry sighed. "I'll let them in, just get dressed and come out in a minute, okay?"

"Mmhmm."

Harry kissed Draco's cheek, grabbed his wand and glasses from the nightstand, and went to get the door.

Hermione was still knocking incessantly. "Harry!"

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair and opened the door. "Hi. Sorry, slept in. Come on in."

Hermione walked in, followed by Ron who was holding Rose. They all had dark hair and olive skin. Harry shut the door behind them and stretched.

Once the door was shut, Hermione waved her wand and the glamour charm disguising their appearances lifted.

"Uncle Harry!" Rose leapt into his arms. He caught her and kissed her cheek.

"Hi Miss Rosie, how are you?"

"Good! Mommy said I get to meet your... Dwaco? TODAY!"

She looked at Hermione and whispered loudly. "Mommy. What's a _Dwaco_?"

Harry laughed, ruffling the toddlers curly hair. "Draco is a _who_. He's my boyfriend."

"Oh. What's a boyfriend? Can I have one?"

"Maybe when you're thirty," Ron growled playfully, taking her back from Harry.

"No fair!" Rosie pouted, " _I_ want a Dwaco!"

Ron pulled a face. "Not you, too."

Harry laughed, giving Ron a playful nudge. "He'll be up in a minute. Take a seat, I'll get breakfast going."

He walked into the kitchen and started pulling out pans and bowls from the cupboard and food from the fridge. With a wave of his wand, eggs began cracking themselves into bowls, a knife began chopping an onion and bacon flew out of its packaging and began sizzling in a pan.

Ron and Hermione sat down at the table, while Rose took a toy from Ron, which appeared from his pocket like magic, and took off running around the sitting room.

"So, Harry, you and Draco have been together for what, nearly six months, now?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked up from supervising breakfast preparations. "Almost, yeah."

"Things are getting pretty serious?"

Harry felt his cheeks warm, "Yeah. I—yeah. I would say they are. We, um, we decided to move in together. We moved all his stuff over yesterday."

"That's great!"

"Yeah," Harry grinned, "it is."

"Have you—?"

"So, how's work?" Ron asked, changing the subject, presumably before things could get too soppy.

Harry shrugged, secretly grateful, but not willing to talk about the awfulness of his job at the moment. "Fine. How're things at the joke shop?"

"Good. We're looking at expanding, maybe even buying out Zonkos in Hogsmeade."

"That's awesome, Ron!"

"Yeah, I suppose. Working with George is great, but sometimes it's... I'm just not Fred, you know?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "I get it."

"If we had two shops, we could still run the business together on the whole, but we could each spend more time at one store. Angelina is applying for Madam Hooch's job when she retires at the end of this year, so George is thinking they might like to move to Hogsmead."

The bedroom door opened and Draco stepped out wearing light blue jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. His hair was tousled, an unusual sight, as was his casual muggle attire.

"Morning, Granger-Weasleys," he yawned, walking into the kitchen. "Morning, love." He kissed Harry, who gave him a warm smile and pressed a mug of fresh coffee into his hands.

"My hero," Draco hummed, sipping it gratefully.

"Love?" Ron whisper-groaned at Hermione. "Does that mean...?"

"Yes! You owe me a galleon. I told you they'd say it before six months!" she whispered back gleefully.

Draco sat down at the table with Harry's friends, startling when a small red-headed child jumped out from behind the sofa and ran over to stand beside the table.

"Are you a Dwaco?"

"Er, yes?"

"Oh." She stood there for a moment, appraising him before pronouncing judgement: "I like you." 

He smiled brightly at her. "You must be Rose. I've heard a lot about you."

She stepped closer and raised her arms in universal child-speak for "pick me up." Draco obliged, setting her carefully on his lap.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry all watched with matching pleasantly-surprised expressions.

Rose sat with Draco for all of breakfast, asking him questions and stealing food off of his plate. Harry was a little jealous. He had been Rose's favorite her whole life. But, he was also pleased. He wondered, watching Draco interact with her, if Draco ever wanted children.

When it was time for them to leave, she whispered something in his ear and Draco blushed crimson. He whispered back, shaking his head, and she frowned at him, reaching for her mother. 

"Do I get a hug goodbye?" Harry asked her after hugging Ron and Hermione, holding his arms out.

Rose shook her head and folded her arms, shooting him a glare. "Uh uh. _No_ hug."

"Oh. Okay. Maybe next time?" Harry was confused. She'd never refused him a hug goodbye before.

Hermione gave him an apologetic look, shrugging her shoulders as they followed Ron out.

After they left, Harry turned to Draco, whose cheeks were still slightly pink.

"That was weird. What did she say to you?"

"She asked if I would be her boyfriend instead of yours."

Harry smiled impishly at him, cocking his head. "And?"

"I told her I loved her Uncle Harry too much, of course!" Draco laughed, "I tried to let her down easy."

"Well, nice going. Now she's mad at both of us." Harry teased.

Draco sauntered over, burying his face in the side of Harry's dark mane. "Would you have preferred I said yes?"

"Hmm. No, I don't share very well. And you're mine." Harry wrapped his arms tightly around his waist to prove his point.

Draco sighed blithely into his hair. "I don't mind the sound of that."

"And I'm yours."

"I _really_ like the sound of that."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, standing by the front door, embracing contentedly.

"Draco?" Harry broke the comfortable silence.

"Yes?"

"Do you... Er, do you want... Children?"

Harry could hear the smile in Draco's voice when he answered. "Not now, but some day... In the future. Yes, definitely."

"Me too," Harry murmured happily, pressing a soft kiss against his neck.


	16. Two Letters & A Package

Two letters arrived the next morning, delivered by two very serious owls who flew in and out without stopping for a treat or a drink of water, even though Harry offered.

Archimedes and Henrietta, who got along famously, watched them apprehensively from their little tree in the corner of the room.

One of the letters was addressed to Harry, the other to Draco. Harry turned them over curiously, examining the seals.

He walked into the bedroom where Draco was pulling on his Healer robes, his hair still slightly damp from the shower.

"Mail's just arrived. I got something from Hogwarts. I don't recognize the seal on yours."

Draco took it, glancing at the back. Harry watched as the color drained from his already-pale face.

"Azkaban. It's-It's from my father. He's never written to me. Mother wrote to him a few times, before she died, but I never did. I just..." Draco's voice trailed off, leaving his sentence unfinished. 

"Do you—" Harry asked tentatively, "—Er, do you want to open it?"

Draco nodded, fingers shaking as he carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter. His eyes scanned the paper briefly.

"He wants me to visit," Draco said flatly. "Says he wants to talk."

Harry's expression was inscrutable. "Huh. Well, that's... Something."

Harry opened his own letter, his eyes widening in surprise.

"It's from McGonagall. The Defense professor is retiring at the end of the year. She wants me to come interview for the job."

"You should do it!" Draco responded enthusiastically.

Harry shook his head. "I can't. You _know_ I can't leave my job with the Aurors."

"Harry, you told me yourself that you wanted to change careers six months ago. Why wouldn't you go for this? It would be stupid _not_ to! You would be great at it, _and_ you would enjoy it. I know you well enough to know that, even if you won't admit it."

"I _can't_ ," Harry repeated stubbornly, "When I told you that, I didn't know—"

"That the Wizarding World was in need of their _Savior_ again?" Draco finished sarcastically.

Harry's expression darkened. "Stop it, Dray. You know I don't think of myself like that."

" _Do_ I? You're turning your nose up at something that would make you happy so that you can go out and save the day again. Even though it's _killing_ you. Even though you come home exhausted and heartbroken and bruised and beaten down at _least_ half the time. You know the Auror department would still function without you, right? It did just recently, as I recall."

Harry glared at him. "People are _dying_ out there, Draco. People are scared. I need to help. I can't just leave. It would be a cowardly move to abandon them now."

"Well, we can't have anyone thinking you're a coward, now can we? Bloody Gryffindor and all. Happiness be _damned_ —"

" _STOP!_ " Harry shouted, his magic crackling dangerously around him. He grabbed his Auror robes from the closet and stormed to the doorway. He took a deep breath and paused, lowering his voice to a normal level.

"My answer is _no_ , Draco, and that's final. I'm going for drinks with Jaz and the rest after work tonight. Don't wait up for me."

Harry left without another word, slamming the front door behind him and leaving Draco silently fuming as he finished getting ready and left for St. Mungo's.

•••••

Harry crawled into bed late that night smelling strongly of firewhisky.

Draco turned away from him, wrinkling his nose.

"Dray?" Harry mumbled, reaching for him in the dark.

"What do you want, Harry?"

"M'Sorry."

"You're drunk."

"M'still sorry." Harry made to wrap an arm around him and Draco tensed, pushing him away.

"I don't want to talk tonight. Just—just go to sleep. We can talk in the morning."

Harry rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately, but Draco lay awake for a long while, mind racing.

He thought about how bloody furious he was with Harry for going out and getting drunk after work instead of coming home and talking to him like an adult.

And whether or not he should go see his father in Azkaban.

And how could he possibly convince Harry to interview for the teaching job at Hogwarts, because he _knew_ Harry wanted to do it, and it really was bloody stupid of him not to. _Stubborn self-sacrificing git._

•••••

They were stiff and awkward with each other the next morning as they each got ready for work.

Harry made breakfast and Draco silently passed him a hangover potion as he sat down beside him, exchanging the vial for the proffered mug of coffee Harry had made exactly how he liked it.

"Thanks," Harry murmured, downing the potion and sighing in relief as his headache and nausea subsided. "Draco, I'm really sorry for how I handled things yesterday."

Draco made a noncommittal noise into his mug.

"Hey. I'm trying to apologize. Would you just _listen_?"

Draco sighed and faced him, a cynical expression flitting over his features.

"I shouldn't have gone out and gotten drunk instead of coming home and talking to you last night. I don't always handle my temper well—"

Draco scoffed and Harry silenced him with a sharp look.

"I _know_ , Draco. I'll work on it. I won't do that again. I really am sorry. I'm also sorry for losing my temper and yelling at you in the first place. I love you. Please forgive me."

Draco looked into his contrite face and sighed again. "I'm sorry for pushing you to interview for the job at Hogwarts. I just want you to be happy, Ry. Because I love _you_ , too."

He reached out to stroke Harry's cheek. Harry turned his head and kissed his palm, then leaned forward and caught his lips.

Harry broke the kiss after a moment, lightly pressing their foreheads together. "Are we okay?"

Draco smiled weakly. "Yes. We're fine."

•••••

Harry held Draco a little tighter before they fell asleep that night. They were both feeling a bit uneasy around each other, unsure how to act after their first serious fight as a couple. They'd had small disagreements before, of course, but nothing quite like this, and the memory of it was still putting them on edge.

Harry was wrapped around Draco, his chest pressed up against his back, an arm slung loosely over his waist.

The dark-haired man dipped his head and brushed his lips against the back of Draco's neck. "What are you going to do about your father's letter?"

Draco pulled away and rolled over to face him, his expression guarded. "I haven't decided yet."

"Don't go," Harry stated decisively.

"I—That's not your decision, Harry."

"Fine. I don't _think_ you should go."

"Why not?"

Harry shrugged. "Just have a bad feeling about it."

Draco sighed and slid closer, tucking his head under Harry's chin and tangling their legs together.

"I'll think about it, okay?"

Harry kissed his forehead. "Okay."

•••••

Over breakfast the next morning, Draco came to a decision. He was staring out the window, watching snowflakes fall and catch on the windowsill.

"Alright. I won't go."

Harry looked up at him over the Daily Prophet. "What?"

"To Azkaban. I won't go. You don't feel good about it, and I don't want to see him anyway, so I won't go. Decision made."

Harry scrutinized his expression, responding carefully. "It's up to you. He's your father."

"I'm well aware of _that_ , Harry," Draco snapped. "Merlin, are you always this difficult?"

Harry sighed and returned to reading the paper, flicking it up to cover his face again.

Three more families killed in the past week. All mysterious Fiendfyre events. The ever-present weight on his shoulders grew even heavier.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut behind the newspaper, forcing down the pain, guilt, and utter failure he felt. It was almost time for work again, and he would face those demons when he arrived.

•••••

The next day, a package arrived during breakfast, addressed to a Mr. Harry J. Potter.

"What's that?" Draco asked.

Harry smiled mischievously. "Could be your Christmas present. I'm going to open it in the bedroom."

Draco grinned. "You sure? I don't mind if you open it here..."

"Not a chance. It's a surprise, Love." Harry answered with a wink.

He shut the bedroom door, tore off the paper, and stared at the slim yellow book in his hands. A wave of nausea hit him, and he clutched at a nearby bed post to steady himself.

It wasn't Draco's Christmas present after all.

Harry opened the front cover and found a taunting handwritten note from each of the authors, politely thanking him for their success. He snapped it closed.

He had forgotten.

With everything else on his mind, he had completely forgotten about the book that Hermione had fought tirelessly to prevent ever coming to light, but that had been cleared to be published anyway.

Draco knocked on the door. "Can I come in now, Ry? I need to finish getting ready."

"Yes," Harry croaked.

He was still holding the book when Draco walked in.

One look at his face, and Draco was worried. "Are you okay, Love? Harry, what's—"

"It wasn't your Christmas present," Harry muttered, holding it out.

Draco caught sight of the title as Harry passed it to him, and his face contorted into a derisive scowl.

"They sent you an advanced copy?"

"Signed by the authors themselves," Harry declared sarcastically. "Merry Christmas to me. The official release is next week."

Draco opened the front cover and read the inscriptions, then passed a hand over his forehead, suddenly feeling unbearably weary. "You never catch a break, do you?"

Harry shook his head, shooting him a wry smile. "Never."

Draco walked over and hugged him tightly. "I wish I didn't have to go, but I need to get to work." He kissed Harry and ran a thumb over his cheek. "Everything will be alright, my Love. Just... Don't read it. Okay? Toss it in the bin, or into the fire—anything. But please, Harry. Don't read it."

Harry nodded mutely. He had a rare day off. He'd been looking forward to finishing his Christmas shopping, maybe stopping by Ron and Hermione's... But now he just wanted to go back to sleep. 

"I'm just going to go back to bed for a bit."

Draco brushed his fingers over Harry's forehead. "Alright, then. I'll see you at lunch, alright? I'll pick up something and bring it back."

Harry nodded again, crawling back under the covers.

Draco threw the book on the table and left for St. Mungo's, carefully suppressing the rage flowing through him.

•••••

Harry slept fitfully for an hour before he rolled out of bed, running a hand through his hair and over his pounding forehead.

"Ugh." He groaned and padded into the kitchen to look for something to eat.

His eyes flicked to the small book resting on the table, it's cheery yellow cover seemed to mock him.

 _Don't read it._ Draco's voice repeated in his head.

He resisted as long as he could, trying to distract himself with other things, but morbid curiosity won out in the end.

Harry sat on the couch with a bottle of firewhisky and opened the book. Sensing his distress, Henrietta fluttered over to the sofa and rested her head on his lap as he read.

It didn't take long to finish it. The book was relatively short, but shocking in its entirety. It was full of lies, insinuations, appalling descriptions of his sex life with Geoff, and quite a few painful truths.

Harry Potter was traumatized by the war. _True_.

A swig of firewhisky.

Harry Potter broke up with Ginny Weasley because he was jealous of her quidditch talent. _Lie. It was_ _mutual, and it was_ _because_ _they wanted different things in life—She_ _didn't want_ _to have_ _children, and Harry did._

Another pull from the bottle.

Harry Potter is bisexual, and has dated both men and women, but he has a particular _thing_ for blond men. _True. And now that he was dating Draco, he_ _had a pretty good idea_ _why._

A long draw of firewhisky.

Harry Potter has a vicious temper and his magic goes haywire when he loses it. _Painfully true._

The bottle was pressed to his lips once more, and a familiar buzz began to flow through him.

Harry Potter hates his job. _True._

Harry drank once again.

Harry Potter has good hygiene habits. _True, and surprisingly complimentary._

Another swig.

Harry Potter is a play boy who doesn't know how to be in a real relationship and has no interest in doing so. Followed by a disgustingly vapid excuse for Geoff's use of the love potion. _Gag. But true. At least, until Draco._

And another.

Harry Potter is good in bed. _True, from what he'd been told, but entirely too descriptive and personal._ Harry cringed and skipped ahead. He couldn't bring himself to read about the things Geoff had convinced him to do while drugged by a love potion. _Ugh. Repulsive._

An enormous swallow.

Harry Potter doesn't trust anyone. _Lie. It's a short list of people, but there is a list_.

The bottle was nearly empty now.

Harry Potter still has nightmares about the war. _True, although they had been_ _slightly_ _less frequent since he had started sharing a bed with Draco_ _._

Another burning swig seared down his throat.

Draco Malfoy is a part-Veela who tricked and seduced Harry into falling for him. _Ridiculous lie._

The end was a paragraph about how Geoff believed that Harry would have fallen in love with him with time, and implied that Draco had upset their epic love story by enchanting Harry.

It was sickening. Vulgar. Ludicrous. Revolting. Utterly vile. Almost laughable in it's absurdity. _Almost_.

The book would hit shelves next week, and then everyone would be reading about him, and all the lies, and about his sex life, and _then_ there were the photos...

_Circe, the photos._

Harry shirtless, winking at the camera. Harry and Geoff dancing at a Ministry Ball. Harry and Geoff kissing. Harry and Geoff going out to dinner. Harry and Geoff snuggling on the couch. Harry sleeping, unaware of the fact that he'd been photographed. Harry and Geoff smiling giddily at the camera as if they really had been in love.

Harry drained the bottle, swaying slightly on the sofa.

Harry pulled Henrietta close and dropped the book on the floor. She allowed him to cuddle her for a moment before hooting indignantly. He let her go and she flew through the open window without a backwards glance. Harry sighed and summoned another bottle of firewhisky from the kitchen. He was starting to feel numb, as if none of it mattered. That was good, right?

•••••

Draco was working with the Longbottoms again that morning, chewing his lower lip anxiously and trying hard not to look at his watch.

"Everything alright, Healer Malfoy?" Augusta Longbottom asked, a concerned look on her face. She had grown surprisingly fond of Draco over the past year.

"Oh—Yes, everything is fine. Sorry, I'm just a bit worried."

"About what?" Neville asked, looking up at him and squeezing his wife Hannah's hand.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "Harry."

"Has something happened?"

"He got an advanced copy of that new book in the mail this morning. You know, the one written about... well, him."

"Rita Skeeter's book? As if anyone in their right mind would ever believe a word written by that foul woman," Augusta scoffed.

Draco nodded. "I agree, but... I'm just nervous that he's going to read it, and it'll wreck him. He's already under so much pressure. I should have burned it before I left. I asked him not to read it, but—"

"Harry doesn't listen to anyone unless he wants to?" Neville finished for him, a knowing smile on his face.

"Exactly."

"You can leave for a bit," Hannah said kindly, "go check on him, if you like?"

"No, no, I'm sure he's fine. Let's talk about—"

A spotted owl came bursting through the door, followed by a harassed-looking assistant. "I'm so sorry Healer Malfoy, I couldn't—"

The owl landed on his shoulder, shrieking in his ear. If an owl could look panicked, this one certainly did.

"Isn't that—?"

"Harry's owl, yeah," Draco said grimly. "He read it, didn't he?"

Henrietta hooted dolefully.

"How sloshed is he?"

She started shrieking again and flapping her wings.

"Okay. I—I need to go. I need to—"

"It's alright, Draco. We'll see you next week." Neville gave him an understanding smile. "Go make sure Harry is okay."

•••••

Draco burst through the floo, tripping and landing forcefully on his hands and knees.

Harry was stretched out on the couch, head propped up on the armrest. He was already halfway through what looked like his second bottle of firewhisky.

"Harry?"

"Oh. Hey. Are you a Veela? They think yer a Veela. Tha's how you tricked me into dating you. You're certainly hot enough. And you've got that lovely blond hair..."

"Harry." Draco sighed in relief, walking over to him and tugging the bottle out of his hands.

"Hey!" Harry pouted. "Give it back."

Draco vanished the entire bottle instead. " _Why_ did you read the stupid book, Ry?"

"It was just sittin' there, mocking me, and I wanted to see what they'd said about me—"

"And?"

Harry giggled. "There's a description of my prick in there. _Really_ detailed."

" _WHAT?!_ "

Harry opened the book and showed him. "See?"

Draco gaped at the paragraph. "They can't—That's—That's not okay, Love. They can't publish that! That's private!"

Harry shrugged. "Hermione's been trying to shut 'er down for months. Apparently, lewd descriptions r'okay, s'long as is'not a photo."

Draco's nose flared as he fought down his rage again. "I'll _kill_ him. I'll kill _both_ of them."

"S'okay, Dray." Harry slurred. "M'alright."

 _Clearly_ , Draco thought sarcastically.

Draco summoned his potions kit, retrieving three vials that he knew would help: Sober Up, Blood Replenishing, and Hangover Potion. He gave them to Harry in that order, and watched as he slowly returned to his normal, sober self.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"You okay?"

Harry shook his head.

"Your owl came to get me. I think she was afraid you'd die of alcohol poisoning."

" _Can_ I?"

"No. C'mon Harry, it's not that bad."

Harry opened his eyes and stared up at him. " _Not that bad?_ My sex life is going to be on display! Not to mention all the lies, and the photos. Bloody hell, the _photos_... I look besotted with him! He's painted it all as some tragic love story, with _you_ as the villain, Draco!"

"At least you're _good_. I mean, he could have said you were terrible in the sack. How embarrassing." Draco teased. "And I'm _always_ the villain. No surprise there."

"It's not funny, Dray."

"I know, Love. It's absolutely horrid. I'm sorry." He ran a hand through Harry's hair, gently massaging his head with his fingers.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that— drank like that. I just wanted to forget what I'd read, if only for a moment. I hate that people can still get to me like this."

Draco kissed his cheek. "It's alright. I took the rest of the day off after your owl ruthlessly attacked me." He grinned. "Let's go out and do something, okay? Lunch? And then we could finish shopping for the many many Weasleys you still need to get Christmas gifts for?"

Harry stared blankly at him for a moment.

"It might help take your mind off that stupid book. Speaking of..." Draco picked it up and tossed it in the fireplace. The fire made quick work of reducing it to ash.

"Okay," Harry mumbled, giving him a small smile and rolling off of the couch. "I'll go get dressed."


	17. It All Falls Apart

The first week of December was an absolute nightmare for Harry.

Geoff and Rita Skeeter's book was officially published, and Harry found himself wishing he could hide under a rock and spend the rest of his days as a hermit.

While his friends and coworkers boycotted the book in support, it was clear that the rest of the Wizarding World's interest had been piqued.

Harry couldn't enter the Ministry without drawing stares and whispers and _Merlin_ , the _blushing_. It was awful.

He could tell who had read the bloody book just by making eye contact and watching as their faces turned crimson, some not even being discreet as they eyed his crotch.

He'd never liked being in the spotlight, but _this_? This was positively mortifying.

The awkwardness of the book release paled in comparison, however, to the horror of receiving the first death threat.

Which happened the next day.

Harry stared at the large envelope on his desk that hadn't been there a few minutes earlier, a sense of foreboding sending a chill down his spine.

He opened it with trembling fingers, and a newspaper clipping and a note dropped onto his desk.

WE WILL NOT STOP UNTIL ALL MUDBLOODS HAVE BEEN EXTERMINATED. STOP FIGHTING THE CAUSE OR THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES. WE WILL TAKE WHAT YOU LOVE, HARRY POTTER. 

Harry's chest constricted painfully. He reached out and picked up the newspaper clipping. It was from the article about Harry and Draco attending the Ministry Ball from several months before, including a large picture of the two of them walking in arm-in-arm. Across Draco's face, the words "Avada Kedavra were written in bold green ink.

Harry's vision blurred. His legs gave out beneath him as he sank to his knees, gasping for breath, panic flooding through him. He leaned forward onto his hands, bracing himself on the stone-cold floor as dry sobs wracked through his body.

"Potter? What—?"

Robards stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. He strode into the room and picked up the two pieces of paper that had slipped through Harry's fingers and fluttered to the floor. He looked them over quickly, his brow furrowed.

"Potter—" He knelt beside him and put a hand on his back. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened."

"Jaz was _right_. Bloody hell, he was right. This isn't, I can't—I can't have _this_ _._ He'll never be safe. Never. I have to protect him. I have to—I can't lose him."

The Head Auror didn't know what to make of Harry's babbling, only the last sentence made any sense to him. "Potter. We'll put a protective team on Malfoy. They can follow him everywhere—work, home, anywhere—Your boyfriend will be perfectly safe. We can protect him until the Neo-Death Eaters are stopped. Breathe. Everything will be fine."

Harry nodded, swallowing thickly, but inside of him something hardened. _He won't be safe. It's not enough._

He had done this before, and he could do it again. After all, Ginny had forgiven him in the end.

 _Draco won't_ , a small voice whispered in his head, _he'll never forgive you._

 _But he'll be alive,_ Harry countered, _and_ _that's what matters._

•••••

Harry tried to ignore the aching in his chest, the instinctive desire to distance himself to protect his beloved. He tried to convince himself that everything would be okay, like Robards kept assuring him it would be.

But every day that week he received another death threat against Draco, and no one could tell him _how_ they kept appearing on his desk when he stepped out of his office for the briefest of seconds to use the loo or to consult another Auror about a case.

Draco's eyes had momentarily widened in fear when Harry told him about the threats, but he'd quickly schooled his expression into one of disdain.

"I know how to protect myself, Harry. I certainly don't need an Auror detail keeping tabs on my every move, but if it helps you feel better, I'll allow it. I'll be fine."

But then the threats had kept coming. Each one a crippling blow to Harry's crumbling resolve.

He couldn't sleep, he could barely eat, it took all of his energy to keep the overwhelming fear from triggering another magic episode.

His nightmares were back in full force, waking him in a cold sweat multiple times each night. Draco was always there, whispering words of comfort, holding him close and stroking his hair until he fell asleep again. But having him there was a painful reminder of what Harry could lose, and that made Draco's attempts at comforting Harry significantly less effective.

They made love almost constantly when they were together. Harry clinging desperately to Draco when they were finished each time, as if it had been the last.

Draco knew something was wrong, could even guess exactly _what_ was wrong, but getting Harry to talk about it was impossible, so he quit trying. Instead, he threw himself into each heated kiss and loving caress, attempting to reassure Harry with his body: _Everything was fine. They would both be fine._

Harry lasted five days. Five days, five threats on Draco's life. On the fifth day his heart shattered, then came back together with the resolve that he would protect Draco. _Whatever the cost._

•••••

Draco looked up from the dinner he was carefully preparing when Harry walked into their flat.

"Hello, Love. I thought since you haven't felt like eating much, I'd try making your favori—Is everything okay?"

Harry's expression was somber, and he backed away when Draco reached for him.

"Harry? What's—?"

"We need to talk, Draco."

"What's wrong? You're scaring me."

Harry swallowed, his expression shuttered. "You're not safe, Draco."

"I live with _you_ and there are bloody Aurors following my every move, Harry! How could I possibly be any safer?"

Harry couldn't meet his gaze. "You're being threatened _because_ of me. Because they know that I—"

Draco gasped sharply, understanding hitting him like a bucket of freezing water had been poured over his head.

"Harry. _No_."

"I have to, Draco," Harry insisted, his voice breaking, "I can't be the reason something happens to you. I need you to be safe. I've lost too many people—I won't survive it. I love you too much. If we weren't together, you wouldn't be a target."

Draco grabbed him by the collar of his Auror robes and kissed him with everything he had. Harry clung to him and kissed back, his chest heaving as he fought back choked sobs. He finally wrenched himself away, stepping back.

"Draco, we can't. I have to end this. I don't want to, but I can't—"

Draco followed, reaching out for him again, desperation and despair emanating off of him in waves. "Leave with me, Harry. We don't have to stay here, we can go—"

"I CAN'T!"

"YOU DON'T HAVE TO SAVE EVERYONE, HARRY!" Draco roared.

"I _do_ ," Harry choked, fists clenching.

Tears were streaming down both of their faces now.

"Choose _me_ , Harry," Draco begged, "Save _me_. Save _yourself_. Save _us_. We can just leave. Other people can stop them. Please don't do this. I love you, Harry."

"I can't leave, you _know_ I can't! I'm so sorry, Draco. You can stay here. I'll go, I'll—"

Draco shot him a venomous look as aching despair morphed into white hot fury.

Draco saw the awareness flicker in Harry's eyes as he stepped forward. He knew that Harry could have easily stopped him, or dodged the blow, but he _chose_ not to react, and that somehow made Draco even angrier.

Draco's fist collided violently with the other man's jaw and Harry staggered back, bringing a hand up to rub it.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," he whispered miserably.

Ignoring the stinging pain in his hand, Draco spun around and marched to the front door, pausing as he grasped the handle and wrenched it open.

"Some Gryffindor _you_ are," he spat. "You're a coward, Harry Potter. I'll never forgive you for this, you understand me? _Never_."

Harry hung his head, his response lost in his throat.

Draco slammed the door and disapparated from the hall with a sharp 'crack!'

Harry dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands. "I know, Draco. I love you."

•••••

In the hallway, Jasper Miner stood keeping watch. He'd heard most of the loud argument, and had clearly heard Draco's final words after he'd opened the door.

He also saw the fury in Draco's eyes when they made eye contact.

"I'm going to get a room at the Leaky Cauldron, if you or your goons still need to follow me," he'd snapped before apparating away.

Now he could hear the choked sobs of his friend, along with the sounds of something glass or ceramic intermittently smashing. _Plates, possibly?_

Whether Harry's magic was out of control, or he was breaking things on purpose, Jaz wasn't sure.

Harry let out an anguished scream, and Jasper felt the overwhelming urge to go to his friend, to comfort him, but the curse he was under wouldn't allow it. The person controlling him was _pleased_ by Harry's pain, he could sense it. He fought back inside his head, internally screaming, but he couldn't overcome his mental restraints.

So he listened to the agonized cries of his friend until he finally quieted, presumably to go to sleep.

A few hours later, the Aurors covering the next shift arrived to take his place. He sent one of the partners to the Leaky Cauldron to watch over Malfoy.

"What's going on?" The other Auror asked.

"Harry ended it with Malfoy."

"Hmm. Could make a pretty knut off of that gossip," the other Auror commented.

Internally, he was disgusted, but Jasper was forced to raise a shoulder nonchalantly and respond, "You sure could. Then at least something good might come from it."

Then he apparated away to complete his master's next task.


	18. Apart

Three weeks. Three weeks of complete and utter misery.

Harry and Draco both threw themselves into their work, pretending like everything was fine. Pretending like their hearts hadn't both been shattered into a thousand pieces just three weeks earlier.

Looking at Draco from the outside, he might have seemed just fine. He was friendly to his patients and coworkers, a mask of calm indifference never leaving his face.

Only Neville and Dottie noticed the fact that his smile never quite made it to his eyes, or the way he seemed to zone out any time he wasn't directly speaking with someone.

They didn't need to ask what was wrong.

The story of Harry and Draco's breakup had somehow made the news the very next morning, with Rita Skeeter speculating wildly and delightedly about the possible reasons behind the failure of their relationship.

Harry wasn't nearly as good at keeping up a facade as Draco.

He tried to act like himself at first, but his heart just wasn't in it. He became more and more withdrawn and sullen as the weeks went by.

His coworkers found his clenched jaw, clipped answers, and simmering temper grating, and his barely reigned in magic more than a little frightening.

Margaret made a pass at him one morning and was met with a savage glare as he wrenched his arm from her grip and barked out a harsh "stay the _fuck_ away from me, Pond." Even she gave him plenty of space after that.

The only benefit to Harry's bad temper was in the field, when his carefully restrained magic would be released with abandon. They captured twenty Neo-Death Eaters in one raid, and suddenly the attacks on muggleborns stopped.

Robards wondered if they had inadvertently captured their leader, or just captured enough of them that there was no one to do their dirty work for them.

When the news broke that, once again, the "Savior of the Wizarding World," had come through for them, the wizarding community in Britain breathed a collective sigh of relief.

But Harry wasn't convinced that it was over, and said as much when the Prophet interviewed him.

As usual, his Auror instincts were correct. The next week, another attack occurred, and panic was restored.

Harry hated being right.

•••••

And Draco hated _Harry_. Or so he told himself, as he drank himself into oblivion each night before staggering up to his room at the Leaky Cauldron.

He couldn't escape him.

Harry Potter was in every newspaper, on the lips of every other patron at Leaky, in the pitying and/or triumphant stares of everyone he met who recognized who he was and why he was there.

It made him want to vomit.

And he usually did, drinking the way he had been.

Christmas came, and Draco spent it alone, unusually sober in his room, staring blankly at the latest photo of Harry in the Daily Prophet.

Andrè and Kent's gift was the only one that arrived for him: Two sets of matching gold cuff links for him and Harry. They were lovely.

Their letter to him included a cheerful invitation to their wedding in the United States in three month's time, with the request that Draco be Andrè best man, and that he bring Harry so they could meet him.

News of their breakup hadn't reached the States, and Draco couldn't bring himself to write the words down on paper.

He tossed the gift and the letter into his trunk and went back to his pitiful staring at Harry's photograph, tracing his features before finally crumpling the paper, tossing it on the floor, curling up on the bed, and succumbing to exhaustion.

Harry spent Christmas at the Burrow, staring blankly into the fire as merriment occurred around him. He forced a smile when someone tried to talk to him, but he couldn't bring himself to do more than that. He gave short answers and secretly wished they would all leave him alone. He pushed Molly's elaborate meal around on his plate at dinner and went up to bed early, collapsing onto the cot in Ron's old bedroom and falling into a fitful sleep.

Even Ron was starting to get concerned.

"Merlins beard, Hermione. This might be the worst I've ever seen him," he whispered as he watched Harry's back disappearing up the stairs. "I don't know what to do."

"I'm not sure what we _can_ do."

"Draco will come around, I'm sure he will. Once Harry's convinced he's safe, they can work it out." Ginny chimed in softly from where she sat on the floor with Dean playing a game of wizard's chess.

"How do _you_ know what happened? Harry won't even tell Hermione and me!"

"He didn't have to tell me," Ginny shrugged. "Harry wouldn't end a relationship with someone he loved unless he believed they were in danger. We saw Draco at the Leaky Cauldron the other day. Those two Aurors from Harry's team were there—Harmon and Drew, I think? I'm guessing they were there to protect him."

"So Harry ended it because Draco was being threatened."

"And Draco was _furious_ with him for it. I can understand how he feels, I was angry when Harry dumped me for pretty much the same reason. But I imagine, knowing Draco, he probably said something horrible and convinced Harry they would never be able to work things out. As if he doesn't love Harry just as much, and isn't just as heartbroken right now."

"Unlikely," Dean added, "He was pretty sozzled when we saw him. Looked like he was doing his best to numb the pain."

"So... what do we do?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," Ginny said softly. "Harry won't be able to relax until this thing with the NDE's is over, however long that takes. After that, he's going to have to figure it out with Draco himself."

"Bloody hell," Ron sighed.

"He's going to get himself killed trying to finish this," Hermione finally spoke again, her voice quivering.

"Harry's strong, sweetheart. He'll be alright," Ron responded, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince his wife.

•••••

A few days later, Harry stood in front of a familiar old gargoyle, feeling extremely tempted to turn around and run away.

Before he could, Professor McGonagall opened the door and greeted him.

"Mister Potter, it's wonderful to see you! Come in, come in!"

Harry followed her up the stairs to her office, swallowing nervously.

Half an hour later, he walked the empty halls of Hogwarts (the majority of the students were still home for Christmas) for a while before making his way down to the edge of the grounds and disapparating back to his empty flat.

•••••

Draco stared at the letter in his hands for a solid minute before opening it, slowly breaking the Azkaban seal for the second time.

He scanned the letter, feeling his breath quicken as he read.

This letter was not from his father, but from the prison healer.

The words "dying....less than two weeks....running out of time to say goodbye..." stole the breath from his lungs.

Draco still didn't want to see his father, but the man was dying. How could he not go?

_Harry didn't feel good about it._

_Yeah, well, Harry isn't here, now is he?_

Draco grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote back, arranging to visit Azkaban to see his father in a two days time.

•••••

Draco wandered aimlessly through Diagon Alley the next day, still unsure of his decision, but unwilling to back out now.

As he passed Flourish and Blott's, he glimpsed a face he'd hoped never to see again.

Harry's ex-boyfriend, Geoffrey Richards, was doing a bloody _book signing_.

Draco's ears rang as fury flooded through him and the rational side of his brain shut off completely. He drew his wand and pushed through the crowded doorway and into the book shop.

People parted for him abruptly when they saw who he was, the look on his face, and the drawn wand in his hand.

He walked up to the table and slammed his fist down on it.

"Shut this event down, Richards. _Now_ ," Draco hissed.

Geoff jumped in his chair at the loud noise, eyes going wide, but his expression rapidly changed to a look of smug disdain.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't _Draco Malfoy_. How _did_ you enjoy being Harry Potter's rebound? I'll admit, you two lasted longer than I expected, but—"

"Shut it you arse, before I hex you."

Draco's wand was pointed right between his eyes, but Geoff still had an infuriatingly pompous look on his face.

"In front of all these _witnesses_?" He challenged softly, "I'm pretty sure a former death eater would go to Azkaban for that."

"I'm warning you, Richards, tell them to shut this down, or else—"

"Draco!" A familiar voice called, and Hermione Granger-Weasley pushed her way to his side. "Come on, he's not worth it."

Draco was shaking, still pointing his wand at the other man's face.

Hermione took his arm, tugging at it softly. "Draco, please come with me."

She lowered her voice so that only he could hear. "This isn't what Harry would want, Draco. Don't get into trouble picking a fight. You _know_ he loves you. He never loved this git. Don't let him get to you."

Draco slowly let his wand arm drop to his side, then carefully slipped it into the holster up his left sleeve.

Geoff grinned triumphantly, walking around the table to laugh in Draco's face.

"That's right _Draco_ , slither on back to the hole you crawled out of, you pathetic Slytherin snake," He taunted, "I'm sorry Harry Potter tossed you aside like day-old crup chow, but don't take it out on _me_. I'm heartbroken too, you know. I _still_ wank to the memory of riding that gorgeous di—"

Hermione drew her wand, but Draco was faster.

He hurled his right fist into the other man's gut, making him double over, then brought his knee up and slammed it into his groin. Geoff crashed back into his little signing table, sending copies of his book flying. He let out a high-pitched scream of pain and rage, and the gathered crowd muttered anxiously. A few people started forward towards Draco.

"Enjoy wanking _now_ , you piece of shit," Draco snarled, grabbing Hermione's arm and pulling her out into the street.

The crowd parted for them, then erupted into chaos when the door swung shut behind them.

Hermione quickly apparated them away to a dark, unfamiliar alley.

"Where are we?"

"Muggle London. I thought you might be hungry. I can imagine you're getting tired of the food at the Leaky Cauldron."

_He was._

She smiled and pulled him around the corner, gesturing with her hand toward the muggle restaurant in front of them. It was a small authentic-looking Italian place.

Draco's stomach rumbled, and he found himself nodding.

They sat down and ordered their pasta, helping themselves to the salad and bread the waiter brought out immediately.

"How are you doing, Draco?"

He snorted and looked away, examining a nearby statue that was part of the decor. "I imagine you can tell that for yourself, Granger."

"Yeah," she murmured gently, "you look about as bad as he does."

Draco jerked his head around to look at her. "He looks bad?"

"He's a _mess_ , Draco. Surely you knew that?"

"He's the one who—" Draco started to raise his voice, and Hermione placed a soothing hand over his.

"I _know_ , Draco," she said calmly. "And I understand _why_ he did it."

He glared at her.

"I'm not saying it was the right choice! Just that I understand it. I mean, I understand _him_ ," Hermione sighed.

"Harry loves with his whole being," she continued, It's just who he is. He cares deeply about people. He wants to help everyone, but the thought of losing someone he truly loves? Someone like _you_? That thought nearly drives him mad."

"He has a bloody Savior Complex, you mean."

The waiter brought their food, and they thanked him briefly before turning back to look at one another.

Hermione's demeanor was sympathetic, but firm as she responded. "No, Draco. I imagine it has more to do with Harry's history. Being abused and neglected as a child, losing far too many loved ones at such young ages, starting when he was just a baby, learning as a teenager that he was being raised like a lamb to the slaughter, with the singular purpose of defeating Voldemort... It all affects him, influencing his decisions. Harry never expected to survive the war when he was seventeen. Did you know that?"

Draco nodded, his expression softening. He looked down at his hands.

"And when he _did_ survive, he felt so much guilt and pain over it all. I thought he'd never fully recover. And then the strangest thing happened last year: He became friends with _you_."

Draco reluctantly met her gaze again. Her eyes were watery as she continued.

"All of the sudden, _Harry_ was back. And not the Harry from before the love potion. No, this was Harry from before the _war_ : lighthearted, laughing, happy Harry. We all could see it, even Ron. I know there were other factors involved—Going to see a mind healer, and your mood stabilizer potions were incredible—but the biggest difference? The way he lit up around you? Blinding. I never thought I'd see that."

Draco felt his own eyes fill with tears. He fought to keep them from spilling over as he rasped, "He made me happy, too."

Hermione sighed, wiping at her eyes. "He still can."

"No, Hermione. He's too bloody stubborn. It doesn't matter how much he loves me. He won't ever believe I'm safe, not as long as he's an Auror and anyone can send him death threats against me."

"He went to the interview with McGonagall, Draco."

"He _what_?"

Hermione smiled at him. "I think he came to the same conclusion, and he couldn't live with it. Well, that and Ron and I both told him he'd be stupid not to do it."

Tears were falling down freely Draco's cheeks now. "That's what _I_ said!" He choked out with a laugh.

"He didn't take it well coming from us either," Hermione chuckled. "But he went."

She shrugged a shoulder, shooting him a friendly smile. "Anyway, she offered him the Defense Professor job on the spot, and he accepted the next day. He's leaving the Aurors in a few months. He'll have the summer off before he starts working at Hogwarts in September."

"What about the..."

"I don't know. I think he's hoping he can solve it before then. That's the only snag in the plan."

Draco nodded thoughtfully, then remembered. "Oh, I have something I've been working on that might help."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blue sphere. "I've been developing a sort of portable shield, to block the fiendfyre. It's a prototype. I don't know for sure that it'll work, but I think it will. It's been tested, but not with fiendfyre. He just has to drop it at his feet and the shield will pop up around him. Give it to him for me, please?"

Hermione took the small glass sphere, holding it between two fingers and examining it closely. "This is incredible, Draco!"

He smiled modestly. "Thanks. I've been working on it since Harry went back to work. It was tricky, but I think I've got it figured out now. I'll owl you more when they're finished."

"Why not just give them to him yourself?"

Draco sighed. "I can't. I can't see him. Not until—It hurts too much, Hermione."

She took his hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's okay. I understand."

Hermione paid the check in muggle money and refused to let him give her a single knut.

She pulled him into a hug and went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "It's my treat today. I'm sorry you're hurting, Draco. I'm really glad we ran into each other."

"What _were_ you doing at Flourish and Blotts today?" He asked curiously.

"Oh, same as you," she grinned, "except I was yelling at the owner of the store, who arranged the event, in his office. He agreed not to do it again. Well, after I threatened him a bit."

"Granger, you scare me."

"Says the man who kneed someone in the groin earlier."

Draco chuckled. "Touché. But he deserved it. The crass, evil bastard."

They had reached the deserted alleyway around the corner from the restaurant.

"Yes, he did," she agreed. "Well, I'm off. I hope I see you soon, Draco."

"See you. Give my best to Ron and Rosie."

Draco apparated back to the Leaky Cauldron, feeling the slightest glimmer of hope fluttering in his stomach.

Now he just had to survive meeting with his dying father the next day.


	19. Azkaban

Draco stepped forward as the gate buzzed and lifted his hands. The guard ran his wand over his front, then his back.

"You're cleared to go in, Mr. Malfoy. I just need you to check your wand here at the desk. You can pick it up on your way out."

"Thank you, Officer."

"There are anti-magic wards over the entire prison beyond this point, so taking wands is really just a formality."

Draco nodded. "I understand."

"Alright. Follow me."

The guard led him through the prison and back into a section labeled "Infirmary."

There was a round desk in the center of the block of cells. Draco counted twenty-five cells, clearly numbered, in the block. Each with a reinforced door and a small, barred window.

There were several guards sitting at the desk, and one witch who was wearing different robes, clearly the Azkaban Healer who had written to him.

"I'll leave you here. Healer Fredrickson will take you to your father's room."

The healer smiled at him as she walked over.

"Mr. Malfoy, so good to finally meet you." She stretched out a hand, and Draco shook it politely.

"Good to meet you as well."

"Your father is in room 18. Follow me."

She turned and led him around the desk, still speaking as they walked.

"I understand you're a healer as well?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Your father is such a sweetheart. He talks about you a lot, you know."

Draco gawked at her back for a moment, feeling grateful that she was facing away from him, before quickly schooling his features into a stoic, slightly disinterested expression.

_Lucius Malfoy? A sweetheart? That was something he'd never heard before. Ever._

And then they were standing in front of a door labeled "Number 18," and Draco's stomach dropped almost painfully. He closed his eyes briefly before following Healer Fredrickson inside.

It _is_ Lucius Malfoy who is lying there on the bed, but he's barely recognizable. Gone is the distinctive mane of white-blonde hair. He's completely bald, mottled red sores and scabs dotting his bare scalp. His skin is tinged with grey, and his eyes are slightly dull, but he looks up when they enter the room.

"Draco, my boy," he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll give you two a moment," the healer says, giving Draco an encouraging nod as she slips out and closes the door behind her.

"Come closer please, Son."

Draco crossed the room and tentatively sank into the chair at his father's bedside.

"Hello, Father."

"I'm proud of you, Draco. I see you've managed to restore our good name. I even heard the _strangest_ rumor that you were dating Harry Potter. Good for you! If that doesn't help the Malfoy name, what will?"

"I... I was."

"Ah. What happened?"

Draco looked away. "He ended it. To protect me."

"Huh. So Nott was right."

"What?"

"Oh, well, he was just _so_ sure that if he sent those threats Potter would break up with you. I told him Potter couldn't possibly be that stupid, but it turns out I was wrong."

"Nott sent the... Father, what are you talking about?"

"My boy, when I found out that I was slowly dying, I decided to provide a service... to the wizarding world. A _gift_ , as it were—Before I go. Some might even call it a _cleansing_ —"

Draco gaped at his father as horror flooded through him.

" _You_ —You're responsible for—?"

Lucius's answering smile was pure evil. "Yes, it was me."

"How?"

"Well, I had an accomplice, of course. Theodore Nott. You remember him from school? He's become quite the handy little inventor in the past few years. Invented a device that allows one wizard to Imperius multiple people at the same time, as well as figuring out how to contain fiendfyre, which is quite the accomplishment on its own."

Draco's mind was reeling as his father continued speaking.

"Oh yes, there are no 'Neo-Death Eaters,' not _really_. Just Theo, controlling however many people he needs. This place is full of innocent, imperiused victims."

"Why?"

"The world needed to be cleansed of mudbloods, Draco!" His father shouted maniacally. "Nott's little fiendfyre bombs were perfect for the job. Not even Harry Potter's powerful magic can stop them. It must have been _torture_ for him watching them die over and over. We tried to make sure he'd arrived before we killed them, you understand."

"Oh, _Harry_." Draco choked out. "Father. _Why_?"

"Well, _I_ only cared about the cleansing, really. Potter is nothing to me. But Nott, he wanted revenge for his parents. They died in here, you know. Murdered by a vengeful guard. He wanted to hurt Potter for locking them up. He wanted him to _die_ , slowly and painfully, unable to save anyone, forced to watch his beloved, disgusting, muggle-loving world crumble around him."

Draco was shaking now. He slowly rose to his feet.

"You foiled the original plan when you saved him from that knife wound," Lucius continued. "But, no matter. Harry Potter will die today. I'm afraid Theo is _quite_ determined. He might already be dead, for all I know."

" _What?_ " Draco felt a wave of panic crash over him.

His father started laughing as Draco stared at him in horror. He coughed into a handkerchief and it came away dotted in blood. "Won't be long, now," Lucius commented, surprisingly unfazed.

"Father, what is Nott planning?" Draco asked frantically. "Where is Harry?"

Lucius continued laughing. Draco grabbed him by the collar of his prison robes. " _TELL ME!_ "

"Sorry, Son," Lucius convulsed and coughed more blood into his handkerchief.

Draco spun away and bolted for the door.

"Better hurry, Draco!" His father's mocking laughter followed him out of the room.

After that last ringing taunt, he dissolved into his final coughing fit. His eyes drifted closed, and Lucius Malfoy was no more.

Meanwhile, Draco was sprinting for the exit, ignoring Healer Fredrickson's questioning, "Mr. Malfoy?" As he passed.

He slid to a stop when he reached the front desk, where the guard who had admitted him was sitting nonchalantly, his feet propped up, eating a large sandwich.

_As if the whole bloody world wasn't crashing down._

"Alright, Malfoy?"

"No," Draco gasped, "I need to contact Head Auror Robards. Right now. My father—He's done something—I need to stop him—"

The guard was staring at him blankly.

"HE'S GOING TO KILL HARRY POTTER!" Draco shouted.

At this, the guard jumped to his feet, dropping his sandwich on the desk.

"What did you just say?"

Draco's voice broke. " _Please help me_."

The guard thrust Draco's wand into his hand.

"There's a fireplace connected to the floo network in the Head Guard's office. Follow me."

He led Draco through a heavily guarded door and into an office where a large man sat behind a desk. He looked up when they entered. "What is it, Trigwell?"

"This man needs to reach the Aurors office immediately. It's urgent."

The man at the desk waved a hand at the burning fire. "Get on with it then. Floo powder's in the blue jar."

Draco ran over, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and flooed directly to the Aurors office.

"ROBARDS!" He yelled as he burst through the fireplace, running up to the reception desk. "I need to speak with him. Right this second."

Margaret Pond glared at him. "I'm _very_ sorry Mr. Malfoy, but—"

The Head Auror burst through the door behind her, and Draco sagged in relief.

"What is it, Malfoy?"

"Harry. He's in danger. I just found out." Draco was fighting tears of panic now. "My father—He's behind everything. _Everything_. The Neo-Death Eaters. And he has an accomplice, Theodore Nott."

The Robards grabbed Draco's arm and dragged him into the hallway where the Auror's offices were. Draco tugged his arm away and sprinted down the hall for Harry's office with the Head Auror at his heels.

The door burst open, and he was momentarily stunned at the sight that greeted him. An enormous blackboard behind the desks was covered in pictures and clues and notes scribbled in Harry's messy handwriting.

On Harry's desk, there was a small silver frame that hadn't been there the last time Draco had been in his office. Inside was a moving photo of the two of them that Hermione had taken. Picture-Harry leaned over and kissed picture-Draco's cheek, and both of them beamed at the camera.

Draco clutched at the edge of the desk, suddenly struggling to breathe.

"WHERE THE _HELL_ IS HARRY POTTER?" Robards roared.

Parvati Patil stepped out of a nearby office. "He and Miner were following an anonymous tip that arrived by owl this morning, Sir. I was supposed to tell you when you arrived, but it slipped my mind. Sorry. They left around half an hour ago."

Robards took the slip of paper from her and scanned the address, then passed it back to her.

"Patil, gather the rest of your team and follow us. Malfoy is coming with me."

"Yes, sir."

Robards held out a hand and Draco grabbed it, the two of them instantly whirling away to the address on the mysterious paper.


	20. Fiendfyre

_Half an hour earlier._

Harry sat at his desk, head buried in his arms. They were out of leads, out of options... Infuriatingly stuck. And he was just so _tired_ , so very _very_ tired.

He briefly considered apparating to the Leaky Cauldron, dropping to his knees, and begging Draco to take him back. He missed him so much that his heart literally ached in his chest.

Harry longed to be wrapped up in his arms again. Draco would card his cool, slender fingers through Harry's hair and trace little patterns over his skin, trace his lightning bolt scar, then his jaw, then his lips, all while telling him everything would be alright. Then Draco would tease him when Harry got a bit too soppy in response, an attractive blush brushing over his pale cheek bones, and Harry would start to believe that things might really be okay...

He glanced up at the framed photograph on his desk. The only thing he wanted more was... _For Draco to be safe._

_Right. That was why he was in this situation._

Jaz walked into their shared office and closed the door behind him.

"You okay, Potter?"

"Yeah. Just... Tired." Harry yawned widely to prove his point. "I haven't been sleeping well."

"Well, I have some good news. We got an anonymous tip about another NDE hideout. I don't think it's legitimate, but maybe you and I should go scout it out? Call for backup if it turns out to be real? Might be good to get out of the office for a bit... Take a break from staring at that picture of you and Malfoy and openly pining for him?"

"I wasn't—I just—Ugh. Fine. Let's go. I'll let Robards know."

"He's coming in late today, he has that briefing with Minister Kingsley this morning. Let's just tell Patil and she can tell him where we went when he gets in."

"Right." Harry took the anonymous note from him and gave it to Parvati when he stepped into her office.

"If we need backup, this is the address. I'll send a patronus, okay?"

"You sure you don't want to take the whole team?"

"Nah. We get fake tips in all the time. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Harry?"

Harry met her intense gaze.

"Don't do anything reckless, okay? I know you're broken up about Malfoy, but—"

"I'm _fine_ , Patil." Harry snapped. "It's just a routine scouting mission. Jaz and I will be right back." 

She sighed and turned back to the mountainous pile of paperwork on her desk. "Alright, then. See you later."

•••••

Harry and Jaz apparated to the address they had memorized from the anonymous tip and looked around. They appeared to be at some kind of wharf, dotted with abandoned warehouses. 

"So... You want to talk about it?" Jaz ventured, as they took in their quiet surroundings.

"Not really." Harry sighed, shrugging his broad shoulders. He slipped a hand into his pocket, fingers brushing the cool glass sphere there, a final gift from Draco. He might hate Harry for ending their relationship, but he still wanted him to be safe. That was something.

"Right. Okay. Let's start with this one." Miner pointed and Harry glanced over at him.

"Why?"

"Gut feeling."

"Can't argue with that."

They walked around the empty warehouse, looking for evidence that it had been used recently. The place was dusty, sunlight streaming in through dirty windows.

Jaz pulled out his wand. "Lumos." Light flooded the dim room.

Harry did the same, trying another charm, "Homenum Revelio." A purple orb emerged from Harry's wand and began circling the large room. The orb flew to a spot on the floor and hovered over it, glowing more brightly.

"That's odd, there's nothing here."

Jaz nodded, his hands shoved deep into his Aurors robe pockets.

Harry moved closer. "Revelio." A trap door appeared.

Without hesitation, Harry pulled it open. "Lumos." He stuck his wand between his teeth and climbed down the built-in ladder into the hidden room.

At the bottom was a small room with several tables inside. A large cauldron and several potions ingredients were scattered around the tables. On the floor was a pile of charred sticks where a fire had been going. "It looks like some kind of work shop. I think this is where they're making the fiendfyre devices." Harry called.

As he turned in a slow circle, wand raised, something reflected the light from his wand. Harry's eyes fell on a small clear orb filled with what looked like a tiny flame, swirling around. He recognized it immediately. "Fiendfyre. Oh, _Circe_."

"Can you call for an evidence recovery team?" Harry hollered up the ladder.

"Sure thing, Potter," Miner called back, "Bring anything important up here, okay?"

Harry gazed at the orb, wondering what he should do. It was too dangerous to leave there, but he didn't know if it was safe to pick it up.

"Wingardium Leviosa." The orb rose into the air. Harry climbed up the ladder again, followed by the dangerous device.

Harry stood up slowly, using his wand to float the orb up behind him. "How long on that evidence team, Jaz?"

"Expelliarmus." Harry's wand flew out of his hand. The orb dropped for a second, then stopped, hovering menacingly over their heads. He turned and found Jasper Miner's wand pointed at his chest, his own wand held loosely in his partner's other fist. "Whoa, what—?"

"I'm afraid Jasper here hasn't been in control of himself for a while, Potter."

The new voice sounded from just inside the large open room, the door clanging shut with a disturbing finality behind it's owner.

Harry recognized the newcomer immediately. " _Nott?_ What're you...? It's you. You made these." Harry pointed to the orb floating above him. "Why?"

Theodore Nott stepped closer, his wand raised, his eyes cold.

"You killed my parents, Potter."

"What? No, I didn't. I just—"

"Sent them to Azkaban. Where they died at the hands of a guard with a grudge."

"I put the guard in Azkaban too, for that," Harry said quietly. "But your parents were Death Eaters. Azkaban was where they belonged. They killed innocent people."

A cruel smile tugged at Nott's lips. "Not nearly as many as _I_ have."

Harry glared at him.

"I _so_ enjoyed watching your face each time. Our poor Savior, arriving on the scene almost in time to save them. _Almost_. Watching you try was very entertaining."

"This was all some kind of twisted revenge? Why didn't you just kill _me_?"

"Oh, Potter. You know that wouldn't have been nearly satisfying enough. You've died before, if the rumors are true. I wanted you to _hurt_ before I killed you."

Harry chewed his lower lip, thinking quickly. Nott didn't know about Draco's invention, but there were two of them, and Jaz was standing at least twenty feet away.

"So now it's time, I'm guessing?" Harry said sarcastically. It was a desperate ploy, a bid for just another moment to think, but it was all he had.

"Nearly. But yes, that _is_ the last of my little fiendfyre creations. I saved it just for you. You've seen what they can do, you know there's no way out of this."

Harry nodded slowly. He needed a plan. He needed Nott to keep talking.

"You did all this alone?"

"Of course not, Potter. I was in it for the revenge. My partner was in it for 'the cleansing of the mudbloods,' as he likes to call it."

"Your partner? What about all the Neo-Death Eaters?"

"All imperiused, like your friend here. Another failure on your part, I'm afraid."

Harry stared at him, thinking about how many people he'd arrested in the NDE raids.

"Don't you want to know who my partner is?" Nott asked with a wicked grin.

Harry sighed. "I get the feeling you're going to tell me whether I want to know or not."

"Malfoy."

" _What?_ No. Draco would _never_ —"

"Not _Draco_ , you fool! _Lucius_."

"But he's been—"

"In Azkaban, yes. But he still had several secret vaults at Gringotts that funded my research, and some very useful contacts on the outside. Without him, none of this would have been possible.

"Little Draco _did_ throw a wrench into our plans, though, saving you from my knife. And Lucius was hesitant to cause any pain to his _dear_ boy. You two just looked so very happy together in the papers. It made me sick. You couldn't die _happy_. You needed to die miserable and alone! So I had to come up with a plan to separate you. It wasn't hard once I figured out how to turn your little hero complex against you."

"You really shouldn't underestimate the power of love, Nott," Harry murmured. "It's saved me more than once."

Harry had come up with a vague plan. It wasn't great, but he knew it was nearly time. Nott wouldn't monologue forever, and he could see a vein popping at Miner's temple. His Auror partner was straining against the Imperius curse.

" _Sure_ it has," Nott snorted with a derisive laugh. "Well, Potter, it's been fun. Now that you know what a complete and utter failure you are, I think it's time to die."

Several things happened at once, over the course of about two seconds.

Nott shouted "Descendo!" And the fiendfyre orb dropped toward ground.

"Diffindo!" Jasper was pointing his wand at Nott, and a gash slashed across his neck. He dropped to his knees, blood spurting from the wound, his eyes wide with shock as the light behind them went dark and his body tumbled forward.

Harry threw Draco's shield sphere at Jasper. It hit the ground at his feet and a blue shield shimmered into existence around him.

Jaz threw Harry his wand and Harry cast the strongest Protego he could muster as the fiendfyre orb hit the ground and the swirling fire filled the room.

Glass shattered as the windows broke. The stone and metal walls came crashing down.

Harry's shield charm was flickering. He dropped to his knees. A large metal beam had fallen over him and was putting extra pressure on his shield.

This would be the end. There was no escaping it this time. He'd never been able to hold a shield against the fiendfyre long enough to save anyone. His magic was being depleted, and he knew he couldn't hold it much longer.

Harry glanced up at Jaz, his friend and Auror partner, who had collapsed to the ground but was being effortlessly protected by Draco's magical shield, and he smiled.

 _Draco_.

Harry fought to stay conscious.

 _Draco_.

His mind conjured an image: Platinum blond hair and smooth pale skin. Stormy grey eyes glinting with wry humor above a straight nose, a teasing smirk tugging at soft pink lips. An angular jaw and pointed chin.

 _Draco_.

_I'm sorry, Draco._

Harry's shield nearly held. The fiendfyre had almost burned itself out when the shield finally flickered and shattered around Harry, leaving him unprotected.

The metal beam dropped, knocking Harry forward as it hit his shoulder blades, breaking bones with a sickening crunch on impact.

Harry screamed in agony as the fiendfyre burned and blistered his skin. It swirled around the rubble one final time, then faded away.

Harry's vision was blurry. Whether it was because he had lost his glasses or because of the excruciating pain, he didn't know. He tried to move, but he was pinned down and the pain was too much. He fought to stay awake, but his body refused; He blacked out.

•••••

Robards and Draco landed on the wharf just as the ground shook from the explosion. They looked at each other. "What was that?"

They ran forward and watched the warehouse crumble, shaking the ground again. Fire licked at the rubble, swirling around and around until it finally began to dissipate.

The scream of pain that shattered the air made Draco's chest constrict painfully. " _Harry_."

Draco ran as fast as he could toward that scream. "Malfoy! Wait! It could still be dangerous!" Draco ignored the Head Auror and ran into the rubble, searching desperately.

Within seconds, he found him. Harry was lying face down, his glasses shattered on the ground beside him, his wand clutched tightly in his right hand. He was pinned underneath a large metal beam, barely recognizable. His eyes were closed, his skin bright red and blistered, burned and oozing from the fire. The sickening stench of burned fabric, hair, and skin filled the air around him.

"Harry? _HARRY!"_ Draco sobbed, falling to his knees beside him. " _No_."

Robards had followed Draco, wand drawn. "Oh, _Merlin_ ," he breathed.

"We need to get this thing off of him!" Draco screamed, pulling at the metal beam with his hands, all thought of magic forgotten in his grief.

The Head Auror pointed his wand. The heavy metal beam rose off of Harry's back and landed on a pile of rubble several feet away.

Robards stepped forward and took a closer look. "Is he—?"

"I don't know," Draco choked out, knowing full well that he _should_ know. Should be able to pull out his wand and run the diagnostic spells, but he couldn't seem to move. Or breathe.

Robards knelt next to Harry, carefully putting two fingers on his neck. "He's breathing. It's weak, but he has a pulse. We need to get him to St. Mungo's."

Jasper Miner groaned and sat up, unharmed but clutching his head between his hands. He had the world's worst headache, but at least his mind was finally free. He looked around and took in the scene before crawling over to them. "Robards? Is Harry—? Oh _Merlin_ , he saved me. Is he—?"

"He's alive. We need to get you both to the hospital." Robards cut him off, then turned to Draco. "I'll apparate with Harry, you apparate with Miner."

Draco shook his head. "I—I can't."

Robards understood. "The four of us together, then. Take my hand, I'll hold on to Harry. Grab Miner with the other. Perfect. Ready?"

_CRACK!_


	21. You're a Fighter, Harry

Chaos erupted in the emergency wing of St. Mungo's when the four wizards arrived. Healers and assistants swarmed Harry, levitating him onto a stretcher and wheeling him away.

Jasper Miner was taken to a be examined as well, but with much less urgency.

After speaking quickly with some of the healers, Robards walked over and put a large, steadying hand on Draco's shoulder. He was still kneeling on the floor in the same position he'd been in when they'd apparated.

"Harry's family. That'd be the Weasleys, right? Do you want me to contact them?"

"Yes. Ginny Weasley. She's the secret keeper for Ron and Hermione. You'll need to get their address from her. Tell them first. They can contact the rest."

"Right. I'll get their addresses and apparate there immediately."

"Thank you."

"But _first_ we need to get you up off the floor." Robards tugged on Draco's arm under an elbow and hauled him to his feet. "C'mon, Malfoy. Let's get you into a chair."

The Head Auror led Draco to a chair in the waiting area and Draco dropped into it obediently.

He had stopped crying and now just sat there, mute, staring blankly at the wall.

Robards eyed him uneasily. "Alright, then. I'll go contact the Granger-Weasleys. Er... Will you be okay?"

Draco nodded in response.

And then he was alone, staring at the wall, trying not to wonder if he would see Harry alive again.

Twenty minutes later, Dottie Hewitt knelt in front of him, gently taking his hands in hers. They had become close friends over the months of working together, and she knew better than anyone just how fragile he was at that moment.

"I'm so sorry Draco, but I need to ask you a few questions about Harry. Healer Bouchard is taking care of him right now."

Draco's eyes slowly focused on his friend's face. Healer Bouchard was new to the hospital, but she seemed competent enough.

"Do you know what caused the burns?"

Draco swallowed. "Fiendfyre. According to his partner, he cast a powerful protego that protected him. The fire only touched him for a few seconds."

"What hit his back?"

"Metal beam from the warehouse roof."

Dottie nodded and stood up. "I need to go report to Healer Bouchard, but I'll be back to check on you, okay?"

Draco stood too, looking down into her bright hazel eyes. Her skin was unusually pale, making her freckles stand out on her cheeks.

"Can you... Can you tell me anything?"

She gave him a small smile. "Normally I couldn't unless you were immediate family, but starting now you're a consultant healer on this case."

He tried to smile back, but the best he could manage was a grateful look.

Dottie spoke very quickly, as she always did when she was nervous.

"It's _bad_ , Draco. Both his scapulars were shattered. Two broken ribs. Luckily, there was no internal bleeding. Healer Bouchard wants to heal the broken bones as soon as possible, but it's extremely painful and he's already weak. His shoulder blades will need multiple healings, and may never quite heal perfectly.

"But it's the burns that are the real trouble. His body is in shock and his vitals are all over the place.

"We're contacting a hospital in the United States. A wizard over there invented a temperature regulator for magical injuries. We're asking them to let us borrow one. We have the right salve to apply to fiendfyre burns. It's rare, but it _has_ happened before. His skin will be as good as new if—" She stopped herself, biting her lower lip.

" _If_ he survives," Draco finished for her.

Dottie nodded solemnly. "There is one more thing. He depleted his magic holding the shield, weakening his magical core. He needs regular magic transfusions from someone he trusts to strengthen his core and help him heal—"

"I'll do it."

She gave him a concerned look. "Draco, are you sure that's... You and Harry broke up. His magic might reject yours."

"Let me try," Draco pleaded, "please."

"Healer Bouchard will have to approve it. And we have to get him stabilized before we can do anything."

"Okay." Draco took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly.

Dottie put a hand on his arm. "Breathe, Draco. Healer Bouchard is the best Healer we have. Well, after you. But you're much too emotional to be the lead on this one. Wait here, I'll come back when I know more, okay?"

He nodded. It was starting to feel like that was the only thing he could do.

Dottie started to walk away, but she turned and gave him another soft smile over her shoulder. "Harry's a fighter, Draco. He'll be alright."

Draco collapsed back into his seat, dropping his head into his hands.

Moments later, Ron and Hermione hurried into the room, followed by Robards.

Hermione rushed to Draco's side, putting a gentle hand on his arm. "Draco? What happened? Is Harry going to be okay?"

"I don't know," Draco choked.

Robards sat on Draco's other side. "I've been to see Patil. She and an evidence recovery team are at the site now. They found evidence of a body. Magic residue indicates that it's Theodore Nott. That's who you said was working with your father, correct?"

Draco nodded, looking down at his hands.

Robards paused before continuing. "I've also been in contact with Azkaban. It seems that your father is dead as well, from natural causes—his disease, that is."

"Good," Draco muttered, "now I don't have to kill him myself."

Robards raised an eyebrow.

"He tried to kill my—" He caught himself, awkwardly amending mid-sentence, "—Harry! He tried to kill Harry!"

Robards gazed at him, his piercing blue eyes scrutinizing Draco's face before he continued.

"So this whole NDE mess really is over. Listen, I need to get back to the Ministry for a press conference. This slipped out of Potter's hand before we apparated. I also grabbed these and repaired them for him, for when he wakes up. Can I leave them with you?"

He handed Harry's wand to Draco, along with his distinctive pair of glasses. Draco accepted them, holding Harry's belongings reverently in his lap.

Left alone with Ron and Hermione sitting on either side of him, Draco took a deep breath, cast a muffliato spell, and recounted the entire story, sagging forward in his chair when he finished.

Hermione's eyes were filled with tears, her hand over her mouth.

Ron sat back, a horrified look on his face. He ran both hands through his ginger hair muttering softly, "bloody hell."

"I can't believe my own _father_ —I mean, I knew he wasn't a good person, but I never thought him capable of all that." Draco bent forward and buried his face in his hands, sobbing softly, bracing his elbows on his knees.

"None of this is your fault, Mate," Ron stated firmly, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder. Ron couldn't believe he'd actually come to care for the "pointy git."

It was hard to hate someone who had changed so much, and who had made Harry so happy. Eventually, Ron had given up on it entirely.

•••••

It was hours before they got any news. Eventually, Hermione had been able to coax Draco from sobbing into his hands to slowly soaking her shoulder. After a while he drifted off to sleep, breathing shakily.

While they waited, the rest of the Weasley family who were able to come had gathered in the waiting room around them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, George, Charlie, and Dean and Ginny.

Draco woke to hushed voices, his head still resting on Hermione's shoulder. He knew Hermione would have felt him stiffen, that she knew he was awake, but she let him listen to the conversation, eyes closed, as if he were still asleep.

"So it's all over now." This was Ginny's voice.

"Yes," Ron whispered, "but it's bad, Gin. They don't know if he'll make it. And they haven't told us anything in _hours_ —"

"How's Draco?" Charlie asked.

"He's... terrified. And heartbroken. And blaming himself, even though he shouldn't—He didn't know what Lucius was up to, he never could have known. And he loves Harry just as much as any of us. Maybe more." Hermione murmured, turning her head and gently kissing the top of his head where it rested on her shoulder.

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Even I have to admit, Harry was happy when they were together. Better rested, less burdened, smiling—I was heartbroken when they broke up."

"Yes, Draco seems nothing like his father. I saw Lucius a lot at the Ministry back in the day. There was a time when I thought Draco would grow up to be exactly like him, but now I just don't see it," Mr. Weasley added. "They were good together."

"I still don't understand why they did. Break up, I mean." George commented.

"Oh, just Harry... Being _Harry_." Ginny explained, without really explaining anything.

"He panicked when Nott sent him death threats against Draco. He was trying to protect him," Hermione clarified.

"Death threats! Oh _dear_. Well, no wonder," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "That is just like him, isn't it?"

Draco shifted noticeably, pretending he was just waking up, and the group fell silent.

Draco sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking around at them all. Hermione gave him an encouraging smile.

"Ah!" Draco grabbed his forehead with both hands as he felt a splitting headache right behind his eyes.

"That'll be from the crying," Mrs. Weasley said gently. "Here you go, dear." She held out a small vial with bright orange headache-relief potion inside. "That sweet Dorothy left it with us for you. She left a message, too: 'The American's are sending it.' She said you would understand."

Draco drained the vial, feeling instant relief. "They're borrowing a body temperature regulator from a hospital in the States. Healer Bouchard thinks it's Harry's best chance, and I agree with her. She's good, but I'm still hoping that she'll let me take over Harry's treatment once he's stable. I can't stand the idea of someone else—"

"You really _do_ love him, don't you?" Mrs. Weasley's voice broke, her eyes welling up.

"I've always loved him," Draco whispered, "since before I even knew what Love _was_."

"Can you ever forgive him? For being such a self-sacrificing prat?" Ginny asked softly.

"I already have," Draco responded, a lump forming in his throat. "If he'll still have me, that is, after—"

An awkward hush fell over the group.

"He will," Ginny smiled at him, "he loves you, too."

Draco shot her a grateful half-smile. "I hope you're right."

Dottie walked in the room, looking exhausted, and the tension returned. She focused on Draco for a moment, then looked around at the whole group and gave them a smile. "He's stable."

Silent tears of relief began to trail down Draco's face.

"Harry is in a room now, and you can see him. I have to warn you—It looks bad. It _is_ bad, but as I've said, he's a fighter. He has to stay wrapped until the burns heal, but the salve seems to be working. He'll be good as new once it's done.

"He's inside the temperature regulator. The walls are glass, so you can sit and watch him if you like. We'll be keeping him in a magically induced coma until his burns have completely healed. We should be able to start healing his broken bones by the end of this week."

The group breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Well, take us to him!" Ron burst out.

She nodded. "Follow me."

Dottie led them to a large room and they gathered around the regulator, gazing at Harry.

You couldn't tell that it was Harry. He was wrapped in bandages from head to toe like a muggle mummy, a purple salve oozing out in a few places between the bandages. But his chest was visibly moving up and down as he breathed, which was comforting.

Mrs. Weasley let out a strangled sob at the sight of him. "Oh, my sweet boy—"

Draco stood at the top of the machine near Harry's head, pressing a hand, and then his forehead, to the glass. His tears dripped onto it and rolled down the side. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I love you, Harry. Please keep fighting."

•••••

A week later, Dottie shook him awake from the chair where he kept constant vigil in Harry's hospital room.

It was one in the afternoon. Draco rubbed his stiff neck. "Hey."

"Healer Bouchard wants you to attempt the first magic infusion today. It took a bit of convincing, but she's agreed to let you try. If he rejects your magic, we can find someone else—Ron or Hermione, probably."

Draco nodded. "Alright."

A tall, severe-looking woman with dark, chocolate-brown skin and even darker brown eyes entered the room. Her braided black hair was pulled up into a loose bun, her mouth drawn into a thin line. She was a smart, no-nonsense sort of person, and Draco was starting to really like her. She'd transferred from a hospital in France back in October when Healer Thomas announced that he would be retiring at the end of the year, but Draco hadn't interacted with her much until recently.

"Are you ready, Healer Malfoy?"

Draco stood up, shifting nervously. "Yes, Healer."

Dottie smiled. "It'll be alright, Draco. It won't hurt Harry if it doesn't work."

"I know," Draco sighed, stepping forward. He was familiar with the process of magical transfusions, he had even supervised them before, but this would be his first time actually performing one himself.

Healer Bouchard opened the temperature regulator and the lavender and eucalyptus scent of the burn salve filled the room.

"Put your hand on his chest. Yes, perfect. Don't mind if a bit of the burn cream gets on you. Now, reach out with your magic."

Draco closed his eyes and focused on the feel of Harry's firm chest beneath his hand as it rose and fell with each breath, the soft, guazy fabric of the bandages that were wrapped around him, sliding a bit under Draco's fingertips. He felt his magic flowing down his arm, tentatively reaching out.

After a moment, he felt an answering tug, pulling his magic into Harry, then the whisper of a voice in his mind.

_Draco?_

_I'm here, Harry. I'm here._

_Draco?_

His magic began flowing freely into Harry, and Draco sighed in relief.

 _I love you_. Draco thought the words fiercely, over and over, hoping Harry could hear him, could understand.

 _Draco_.

After a few minutes, Healer Bouchard touched his shoulder. "Time to stop, Healer Malfoy. Don't want to exhaust yourself."

Draco reluctantly removed his hand, slowing and then shutting off the magical connection.

"Magic transfusions can really take it out of you. Why don't you go home and rest?"

Draco nodded, but slumped back into his chair beside Harry anyway. "I will. In a bit. Can you give me an update?"

Healer Bouchard smiled kindly. "Harry is doing well, Draco. He's a tough one. I'm hoping that with the first magic infusion today, he'll be strong enough for me to begin healing his broken bones tonight. The extra magic should speed up all of his healing. Do you think you could do it again in a few days?"

Draco was feeling a bit lightheaded, but he nodded anyway. _Anything. He'd do anything to help._

Dottie put her hands on her hips. "You need _rest_ , Draco. And a good meal. If you want to help Harry, you'll need to keep up your strength."

"Go home, Draco." Hermione's voice sounded from the open doorway, where she had caught the end of the conversation. "And I don't mean back to the Leaky Cauldron. _Home_. Come on, I'll take you."

Draco was too tired to resist. He let her drag him to the apparition point and side-along him to the hallway just outside the flat he and Harry had shared. She gave him a pointed look and Draco pulled out his key and unlocked the door.

The flat was messy, as was typical of Harry when he was unhappy.

Henrietta hooted excitedly and fluttered over to him. She nuzzled his cheek and hooted wistfully. Draco stroked her soft feathers. "Yes, he'll be back soon, too. Don't worry. And I'll go fetch Archimedes tonight, so you'll have someone to keep you company when I'm not here. No more barging into the hospital and terrorizing assistants, hmm?"

He carried her back to her favorite branch, and she hopped onto it willingly.

Hermione walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, wrinkling her nose. "Ugh. There's nothing edible in here."

She scourgified the owl droppings under Henrietta's tree and checked the wards on the open window that prevented any other creatures, or people, from entering.

Then she began summoning the dirty laundry, gathering it together into a pile.

She vanished the well-worn punching bag from the center of the sitting room.

 _No gloves_ , Draco noticed with a twinge of annoyance.

With a wave of her wand, all of the furniture in the sitting room moved back to where it should be.

She vanished the empty takeaway boxes that littered the coffee table and picked up the pillow and blanket on the sofa that clearly indicated where Harry had been sleeping, banishing them to the linen closet they had come from.

Draco wandered into the bedroom and found the bed neatly made, as if Harry hadn't been in the room at all since Draco left. The only change was that on Harry's nightstand, a slender, rectangular package had been tossed haphazardly, still unopened. Draco ran his fingers over Harry's name on the front: Mr. Harry J. Potter.

He resisted the urge to open what he suspected had been intended to be his Christmas gift, before everything had gone wrong. This package was remarkably similar in size and shape to the book that Harry had thought was his present, but hadn't been after all.

Hermione appeared in the doorway, watching him. "I've finished cleaning up out here. I'll wash Harry's laundry and go pick up some groceries for you, okay? I want you to _rest_ while I'm gone. Take a shower, put on something comfortable, and _go to sleep_."

"Yes, _mother_ ," Draco teased with a wry smile.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Well, Morgana knows you could use some mothering right now," she lowered her voice, "Couple of helpless idiots blundering around in the dark, you two."

Draco didn't need to ask who the other person she was referring to was. She'd just cleaned up after him.

Hermione shot Draco a commanding look and pointed. "Shower. _Now_."

"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbled. Draco grabbed a pair of Harry's jogger sweatpants and a clean t-shirt and headed for the bathroom.

"I'll be back in a couple hours!" Hermione called after him, letting herself out.


	22. For you. For me. For us.

The Wizarding World was in uproar when word broke out that the NDE's were finally stopped, once and for all. Robards gave full credit for getting rid of them to Jasper Miner and Harry Potter when speaking to the media, but didn't release the details of the case.

Miner helped him set all of Nott's imperiused victims free, and then took a brief non-negotiable leave of absence before returning to the Auror force.

The stories about Harry Potter grew wilder and wilder as the media speculated about his condition. Robards confirmed that he was in St. Mungo's undergoing treatment for injuries sustained while working the case, but refused to say anything more. He soon had to assign a couple of Aurors to keep the media out of the hospital, which they did, despite the impressive attempts that were made to catch a glimpse of the wounded "Savior."

Draco found their flat bombarded with fan mail and well-wishes for Harry that he began tossing right into the fire. The man got far too much fan mail before, but now it was getting out of hand.

•••••

With regular magic transfusions and Healer Bouchard's carefully supervised treatments, Harry slowly began to recover.

His ribs healed beautifully, although diagnostic spells indicated that his scapulae were still only partially healed.

After a month, they were able to take him out of the temperature regulator.

Draco began regularly working on Harry's shoulders until the diagnostic spell indicated that they were completely and properly healed.

Another month passed, and they were finally ready to completely remove the bandages.

Draco arrived at the hospital that morning to find Harry sleeping peacefully, covered by a thick white blanket that was pulled up to his collarbone.

He looked like himself again, and Draco's heart leapt into his throat. Harry's dark hair and eyebrows had grown back, his raven locks as unruly as ever. Harry's caramel skin still had a deep red tinge to it, but Draco knew that would fade with a little more time. His skin was completely new, and only one persistent scar remained: the forked lightning bolt that marked his forehead, cutting into his eyebrow.

Draco gently tugged the blanket down and examined Harry's upper body curiously.

His chest was perfectly smooth, except for the trail of dark hair that started on his lower belly and traveled downward. That sight made Draco's mouth run dry, and he quickly turned his attention elsewhere.

The small divot in Harry's chest where a horcrux had been severed from his skin? Gone. The words 'I must not tell lies' on his hand? Gone. The scar on his abdomen from the knife wound that Draco had healed? Gone.

Draco placed a hand on the center of Harry's chest, bracing himself as his magic began to flow.

Ron and Hermione walked in just as Draco was finishing the magic transfusion. One of the last, if Healer Bouchard was correct. Draco found himself strangely disappointed. There was something incredibly intimate about sharing magic. His excitement that Harry would be healthy enough to wake up soon far outweighed any disappointment, however.

Draco looked up and grinned at them. "Look." He moved aside so they could see their best friend, gently pulling the blanket back up to his neck.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "He almost looks like himself again, doesn't he?"

"Blimey, that's nice to see." Ron commented, voice heavy with relief.

Draco sat on the edge of the bed and gently ran his long fingers over Harry's forehead, moving his hair out of the way and tracing his famous scar.

"We'll give you a moment," Hermione said softly, brushing a kiss against Draco's cheek and dragging Ron from the room.

"But we just got here!" Ron protested.

"I love you," Draco murmured after they'd gone, pressing his lips to Harry's forehead. "I love you so much."

Healer Bouchard entered the room with the brisk efficiency he had come to expect and appreciate. "We can dress him now, if you like, since his skin is healing so nicely. We have hospital robes here, of course, but since his skin is better now he might be more comfortable in his own things when he wakes up."

Draco smiled appreciatively, standing up. "I can go get some things for him."

"Alright. We'll wait to dress him until you get back."

Draco ran into Hermione and Ron in the hallway. "I'm going to get some clothes for Harry. I'll be back soon."

"Alright. See you later."

•••••

After three months in St. Mungo's, the healers stopped giving Harry the sleeping potion, but he remained asleep.

Healer Bouchard reassured them all that there was only so much that magic could do, but Harry would be fine. "He has some healing he has to do on his own. He'll wake up when he's ready."

The Weasleys had rotated staying with Harry, but Draco rarely left. Mrs. Weasley would bring him food and demand that he eat, then threaten to hex him if he didn't go home and rest for a few hours. Draco would grumble about being smothered, but then he would do as she said, too afraid of her to refuse.

As April drew closer, Draco grew increasingly anxious.

Hermione and Ron did their best to reassure him that being away for a few days for his friend's wedding would be just fine. They would stay with Harry. They would alert him if Harry woke up. It would be fine.

When the time came, with much trepidation, Draco had packed a suitcase, stopped briefly at St. Mungo's to kiss Harry's forehead, then taken a portkey to Massachusetts to perform his best man duties.

•••••

An hour later, emerald green eyes fluttered open for a second, then were clenched tightly shut.

"Where am I?" Harry rasped. His throat burned.

Hermione gasped as Harry's eyes opened again, this time focusing on her blurry face.

"Ron!" Ron jumped in the chair where he'd been dozing, suddenly wide awake. "He's waking up, Ron!"

"Harry, you're at St. Mungo's."

"Do you have my glasses?"

Hermione grabbed his glasses off of the bedside table and handed them to him.

Dottie stepped into the room to check in on them and squealed.

"HARRY! You're awake! How are you feeling? Do you need anything? I'll go get your healer!"

"Water?" Harry requested, his voice grating against his raw throat.

"Of course! I'll get it!"

She took off, leaving Harry to gaze up at his two best friends for a brief moment, taking in their elated expressions with a confused look on his face as his memory of the events that landed him in St. Mungo's slowly returned, leaving him feeling amazed that he'd survived certain death once again.

Dottie darted back into the room and handed him a cool glass of water. Harry sipped it gratefully.

"Thanks, Dottie."

"You're welcome! I'll go get your healer!"

Harry's eyes brightened in anticipation as he watched her leave.

"How long have I been out?"

Ron answered. "About three months, Mate."

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I feel...okay." Harry responded, glancing down at himself. He was wearing a soft black pair of joggers and his favorite Gryffindor shirt. He ran a hand over his face and through his long, messy hair. It fell well past his ears and made his neck itch.

An unfamiliar healer in lime-green robes walked into the room and Harry's face fell.

The woman began checking Harry's vitals. "I'm glad to see you awake, Mr. Potter. We haven't met. I'm Healer Bouchard. How are you feeling?"

"Good. Excellent. I need to go." He forced himself into a sitting position, ignoring his aching back.

The healer's mouth twitched into a wry smile. "I'm afraid that won't be possible _just_ yet, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked pleadingly at Hermione and Ron. "Where's Draco? I need to talk to him—I need to—"

Hermione smiled at him, her eyes brimming with tears that were threatening to spill over, and took his hand. "He's been here, Harry. Every day. He's barely left your side. But I'm afraid—" She let out a choked laugh, "Oh, _Harry_. You have just the _worst_ timing! He had to leave this morning. Just for a few days, mind you. His friend Andrè is getting married on Saturday. He asked Draco to be his Best Man."

"We told him we'd owl right away if you woke up—"

"Don't." Harry cut him off. "Don't tell him. Not yet."

"Alright, Mate. Whatever you want." Ron shrugged, looking confused.

Harry fixed his attention on the healer. "When can I get out of here?"

"Well, your vitals all look good, and your injuries are healed... Can you stand?"

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood shakily, using the side of the bed to steady himself.

Healer Bouchard watched him closely. "I'll send Dottie to get a muscle strengthening potion. If you can walk around comfortably after a dose or two of that, you can check out in the morning."

Harry's grin in response was dazzling.

•••••

Draco smiled at his friend, who was nervously straightening his tie in front of the mirror for the third time.

"Stop fussing with it," Draco swatted his hand away, "the tie looks great. You're messing it up, and it's nearly time to go."

"I just can't believe I get to marry him!" Andrè exclaimed happily. "I want everything to be perfect."

Draco grinned. His best man duties that week had been surprisingly easy. Neither of the grooms seemed to be having second thoughts. Andrè and Kent had both beamed at any mention of their wedding, faces lighting up with pure joy.

Draco couldn't help wistfully thinking of Harry and wondering if they would be like that too, if they ever... He shook his head, chasing the thought away. _First, Harry needed to wake up. Then they could talk_.

Kent's best friend and best man Pete was a tall and brawny brunet. He was exuberantly friendly and boisterous. His girlfriend Maggie was his opposite in looks and temperament, sweet, and shy, with wavy blonde hair that cascaded down her back. Pete's noise level took a bit of getting used to, but Draco found that he liked them very much. The five of them had spent a pleasant week together finishing preparations for the wedding, and now the big day had finally arrived.

Draco smiled enthusiastically for Andrè and Kent throughout the day, feeling genuine happiness for his former roommates, with only the tiniest twinges of envy and longing.

•••••

It took two full days before Healer Bouchard was satisfied enough to finally allow Harry to leave St. Mungo's, much to his chagrin.

When she'd finally declared him ready, she gave him an amused smile and pressed a strengthening potion into his hand. "One for the road. Take it before your portkey, you lovesick dolt. Now _go!"_

Harry had laughed with wild abandon. He pocketed his wand, burst through the door, and took off running for the apparition point.

First stop was Diagon Alley for new dress robes and a haircut.

Then, he apparated home. He unlocked the door and walked inside.

Henrietta swooped at his face, hooting joyfully. Harry caught her and gently stroked her soft feathery face while she nipped playfully at his fingers. Archimedes hooted happily as well, but didn't leave the tree. Like his owner, he tried hard not to appear too soppy.

The place was spotless, just how Draco liked it. Harry grinned, heart thumping in his chest.

He strode into the bedroom and picked up the package on his nightstand, tearing off the paper and examining the flat rectangular box coated in black velvet.

Carefully, he opened the lid and examined the two identical silver rings inside. They were goblin-made woven bands of white gold, the metal strands weaving together into an intricate braided design.

Harry ran a finger over the cool metal rings nestled in their box and snapped it shut before tucking it safely into the pocket of his new dress robes.

Harry Potter never did anything half-heartedly and if there was one thing he was sure of, Draco Malfoy deserved nothing but the best he could give.

The next day, he made his way to the Ministry to request a portkey. He was mobbed by fans and admirers and press the moment he was sighted and found himself wishing he'd been smart enough to bring his invisibility cloak. It took several hours, but he finally got his portkey and was on his way.

•••••

Draco leaned comfortably against a wall, watching as the wedding reception festivities began to wane. The reception hall was beautiful, lit by hundreds of candles and an enormous crystal chandelier.

Most of the guests had left by this point, but a few couples were still dancing out on the shimmering golden floor, including the two grooms.

Draco made his way over to them, tapping Andrè lightly on the shoulder. They stopped and turned to face him. "I just wanted to say goodbye before I go. Congratulations to you both. I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you for coming, Draco," Andrè said warmly, "I know it wasn't easy to be away right now. You're a good friend."

"It was my pleasure. I could never miss your wedding," Draco responded with a tired smile. "But I'm going to see if I can catch a portkey back tonight. I really need to check on Harry."

Kent was staring over Draco's shoulder. "That... Might not be necessary."

"What do you mean?"

Kent inclined his head, and Draco slowly turned around.

Harry Potter was standing in the doorway looking like he'd walked out of a bloody Wizarding Wear catalogue. He was dressed in classic, fitted black dress robes, his viridian eyes blazing behind his glasses as he gazed at Draco from across the room.

As their eyes met, a wide grin split his face.

Harry began walking towards him, and suddenly Draco was running. He flung himself into Harry's arms, clinging to him tightly as if he simply couldn't believe he was real.

"You're awake! You're _here_! How—?"

"I know Hermione and Ron promised to write if I woke up, but I asked them not to. I wanted to come surprise you myself."

Draco pulled back to look him in the eye. "You prat. And people say _I'm_ dramatic."

Harry chuckled and brought his hands up to Draco's face, gently running his thumbs along his jaw. Draco slid trembling fingers into Harry's thick hair, pulling him closer.

Harry kissed him softly, teasing him with a chaste brush of warm lips. Draco tilted his head and kissed back harder. He ran his tongue over Harry's bottom lip and Harry moaned softly into his mouth, parting his lips to let Draco plunge his tongue inside and responding with fervor. After a moment that was much too short for either of them, Harry pulled back, gasping breathlessly. "We should probably... We're in public..."

"My hotel room?"

"Yeah. But I want to meet your friends first."

Draco intertwined the fingers of one hand with Harry's, shaking his head fondly. He led him over to Andrè and Kent, who were now talking amiably with Pete by the bar as the orchestra announced that they were playing their last song of the night.

The three of them turned to look at Draco and Harry as they approached.

Harry stretched out a hand toward Andrè, who shook it firmly.

"Hi, I'm Harry."

"Andrè. This is my husband Kent. Oh, I _love_ saying that."

The two grooms beamed at each other.

Harry grinned and shook Kent's hand too. "Congratulations."

"You're... You're Harry Potter." Pete was staring at him with wide eyes.

"Er, yes, I am. And you are?"

"Peter Davis. I—I'm a big fan. Is it true you can cast a patronus nonverbally _and_ wandlessly?"

"I think so. I mean, I could, and I think I still can, but I'm recovering from a recent injury, so I'd better not try to demonstrate."

"By _injury_ , he means near-death experience," Draco corrected, draping an arm around Harry's shoulders. "And as his personal Healer, I'll kill him if he strains himself in any way."

Harry shrugged. "There you have it. Healer's orders."

"We'd better get going anyway," Draco drawled, "we have some catching up to do. Back in my hotel room."

There was a brief awkward silence.

"Well, don't strain yourselves!" Kent teased, breaking it instantly.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Draco retorted with a sly grin before abruptly side-alonging Harry directly onto the large hotel bed and pouncing on top of him.

"Mmm—Dray? Not that this isn't— _Merlin, yes_ —but—don't you think we should— _Oh—_ talk first?"

"Later, Love. Right now, just let me—"

Draco's slender fingers were making quick work of the buttons on Harry's robes. Harry fumbled at Draco's, attempting to return the favor.

"Is it true you took the teaching job at Hogwarts?"

Harry gave up and tugged Draco's robes over his head, trailing his warm fingers over that pale, smooth chest, lovingly tracing the scars he had put there all those years ago.

"Yes."

"You're really leaving the Auror's?"

Draco finished with Harry's buttons and tore his robes wide open, taking in the expanse of caramel skin below him and licking his lips appreciatively.

"Yes," Harry replied breathlessly, returning his intense gaze.

"Why?" Draco dipped his head and sucked and bit at the pulse point on Harry's neck, marking him. _Mine_.

"For you." Harry gasped, "For me. For _us_. I choose us."

Draco brought their lips together and kissed him fiercely before ripping his mouth away.

"If you _ever_ pull that hero shit again and try to end this to protect me—"

"Never," Harry vowed, trailing a hand over Draco's cheek. "I'm _never_ letting you go again."

Draco sighed blissfully and leaned back in, letting himself get swept up in the way Harry was kissing him—as if he were drowning and Draco was the very air he breathed—as their bodies and lives intertwined once more.

•••••

Harry woke up the next morning to find Draco draped over him, his head nestled in the crook of his neck, an arm thrown over his chest, one leg curled possessively over Harry's.

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the velvet box from the pocket of his dress robes on the floor and tucked it under his pillow.

The movement made Draco whine, clutching Harry tighter.

"Sorry, Love." Harry whispered, running his fingers through the silky blond hair that was brushing against his neck. "Just stretching. I'm not going anywhere."

Draco relaxed and sighed happily. "Good, because I'm not moving."

Harry just laughed and kissed his forehead.

An hour later, Draco began to wake up in earnest. He pressed his lips to Harry's collarbone and rolled off of him, stretching his arms above his head before turning onto his side to meet emerald green eyes. Harry was watching him from behind his glasses, smiling shyly at him.

Morning light was pouring through the sheer curtains of the hotel window, reflecting off their hair and eyes, giving everything a surreal, picturesque quality.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Harry bit his lower lip nervously before forcing himself to get the words out.

"I, er, I brought your Christmas present with me. I know it's late, but... Would you like to open it?"

Draco's eyes gleamed and he sat up quickly. "Ooh, yes! I've been _dying_ to know what's in that—"

The words died in his throat as the velvet box was set in his hands.

"Harry, what—?"

Draco lifted the lid and gasped.

"These are... Do you _know_ what these are?"

Harry nodded. "Bonding rings."

"You don't just want to marry me, you want to _bond_ with me? Share magic?"

Harry was watching him closely, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. "We don't have to, if it's too much—"

Draco turned his wide grey eyes on him, now glistening with tears.

"It's not—They're _perfect_ —"

He kissed him fervently and Harry felt relief and excitement wash over him.

"How did you even _find_ these? The goblins only made a few sets. They're incredibly rare."

"Yes, they are," Harry murmured, "but so is what we have."

Draco pulled away to sigh happily, smiling fondly at him. "I would love to marry you _and_ bond with you, Potter."

Harry laughed, pulling a face at him. "Potter?"

"Yeah, I've decided I quite like your surname. I think I might steal it," Draco smirked.

Harry pulled Draco close and kissed him again. "It's yours."


	23. Perfect

_Four Months Later._

Harry and Draco stood in front of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, hands clasped tightly, positively beaming at one another. Dressed in white dress robes, they exchanged vows, then rings, then kissed tenderly in front of all of their family and friends.

As their lips met, their guests witnessed a rare sight—Their magic combined, bonding them and illuminating the two grooms so brightly that it was impossible to look at them. Their skin glowed for a moment and then the blinding brightness faded away, leaving two grinning grooms who couldn't resist indulging in one more kiss before inviting everyone to join them at the venue for their reception.

As he and Draco swayed slowly on the dance floor, Harry glanced around at their many friends as they danced, and he felt like his heart might just burst. He'd never imagined he could be this happy.

There was Ron, his best man, dancing with a glowing Hermione, whose gorgeous plum dress draped over a visible baby bump.

Neville and Hannah were sitting at a table with Augusta, as well as Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were looking more aware of their surroundings than they had in years. Occasionally one of them would even engage in the conversation for a few minutes.

Hagrid and Olympe were dancing nearby, looking as happy and in-love as ever. Hagrid gave Harry a wide grin and a thumbs-up when he caught his eye. Harry couldn't help grinning back.

Professor McGonagall, though Harry supposed he should start thinking of her as _Minerva_ , was sitting at a table speaking pleasantly with Andromeda and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Gawain Robards was dancing with his wife. He gave Harry a wink when their eyes met. Harry grinned.

Harry's former Auror partner, Jasper Miner, was dancing with his _new_ Auror partner, Parvati Patil. Harry thought he glimpsed a hint of something passing between the two Aurors as they danced and laughed together and he smiled knowingly. They didn't even know it yet.

Kent and Andrè, Draco's best man, had decided they wanted to adopt shortly after getting married, and Harry had excitedly introduced them to Agnes Torwall at the Department of Infant and Child Protection. They passed every requirement with flying colors and were cleared to adopt Charlie Longren shortly after. Now eight months old, the bright-eyed baby boy was happily eating a teething biscuit and bouncing on Kent's lap while Andrè talked politely with Dean and Ginny.

Charlie Weasley was dancing with Dottie Hewitt, and she blushed furiously when he whispered something in her ear. They seemed awfully close for two people who had just met that day.

Teddy and Rosie were dancing wildly to the music, holding hands and jumping up and down excitedly. Teddy's hair was changing color rapidly in his excitement.

Rosie had eventually forgiven Harry and Draco, deciding that the only boyfriend she needed at the tender age of three was her dad, a decision Ron was incredibly chuffed about. His boyfriend duties included bandaging scraped knees and giving butterfly kisses after tucking her into bed at night.

Harry let out a soft sigh and Draco turned his head to look at him. "What is it, Love?"

"Nothing," Harry pulled him close. "I'm just... Happy."

Draco pushed him back just enough to kiss him, each of them feeling a little jolt of magic down their spine. "Me too," Draco whispered back.

Harry jumped at a sudden movement from Draco's breast pocket as a tiny black snout emerged. " _Draco!"_ He laughed.

"What?" Draco smirked, "I couldn't let our little dragon miss all the fun!"

"Of course not," Harry chuckled, letting Draco spin him, then pull him close again, sneaking another kiss.

"You're ridiculous."

"You gave her to me."

A warm smile crossed Harry's face, crinkling his eyes at the corners behind his glasses. "True. I guess I'm a bit ridiculous, too."

Draco lowered his voice. "How long do we have to stay at this thing?"

"Patience, Love," Harry murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"Ugh. _Fine_. But if I don't have you naked on a beach somewhere by tomorrow, I might murder someone."

Harry laughed, running a hand through Draco's carefully styled hair, mussing it up just a little bit. "I'm sure that can be arranged. Our portkey is at nine. It'll take us straight to the rental house on the Island. You might even get me naked on a beach _tonight_."

Draco shivered, pressing up against him. "Promise?" His hot breath brushed over Harry's ear, making him bite back a moan.

"Promise," Harry breathed, fighting to regain control of his senses.

"No backing out now, Potter."

"I would never," Harry teased, mimicking Draco's drawl. " _Potter_."

Draco's ringing laughter drew the eyes of many of their guests, who smiled at the two grooms dancing together as if no one else was even there.

And in that moment, everything was perfect.


	24. Epilogue

_Kings Cross Station, 15 years later_

Harry watched their eleven-year-old children bounce out of the car with a smile, shutting his car door behind him. Once again, he mentally thanked the witch who had been their surrogate, for what must have been the millionth time.

Thanks to a little bit of magic, the twins were an incredible blend of Harry and Draco. Scorpius was blond with brilliant green eyes and Draco's pale skin. He was studious and shy, but surprised them all with his quick wit and dry humor when he was comfortable.

Gemma (Gemini, but no one called her that, not even her fathers) was her brother's opposite in looks and personality. She had Draco's stormy grey eyes and Harry's caramel skin and messy black hair, although Draco had figured out how to tame her hair long ago. Her dark mane was neatly plaited down her back today and tied with a light blue ribbon to match her dress. Their daughter was feisty, independent, and friendly. She was quick to laugh and quick to make friends, but also fiercely protective of her brother, always making sure he was included.

"Hurry _up_ , Daddy!" She pleaded, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Sorry, Sweetheart." Harry gave her a soft smile and walked around the car to help Draco unload the trunks and pets. Scorp's eagle owl was hooting noisily, while Gem's striped grey kitten sat in her basket, quite docile.

Harry smiled at Draco as he grabbed the end of Scorpius's trunk and helped him lift it onto a trolley.

"I had it," Draco grunted.

"I know you did. Just wanted to help, Love," Harry winked and Draco melted. Some things hadn't changed at all over the years.

Everything unloaded, the four of them made their way to the platform.

"Gemma! Scorpius!"

They were engulfed by a sea of redheads. The Weasley children greeted their closest friends, while their parents exchanged hugs and handshakes.

"Ready for another school year, Harry?" Hermione asked, ruffling Scorpius's hair. "And hello, _you_."

"Hello Auntie Hermione," Scorpius responded, flashing her a smile before ducking and moving away to hide behind Draco.

"Come on, Scorp!" Gemma grabbed his hand and pulled him over to join their friends.

Harry chuckled. "I'm ready. I just hope I don't embarrass them too much. It can't be easy, having your Dad at school."

"Longbottom's children have survived. Yours will, too." Ron grinned.

"I suppose. I just hope they love their time at Hogwarts as much as I did," Harry sighed, thinking of his first trip to the castle that had been the first place to feel like home.

"But, you know, without the evil wizard trying to murder them," Draco added, intwining a hand with Harry's.

"Of course," Hermione smiled. "We wouldn't know what that was like."

"Sounds _boring_ ," Ron joked.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Harry, isn't—Isn't your niece starting today as well?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, Daisy. We took them to Diagon Alley to get her supplies last week. I'm sure they'll be here. We've still got twenty minutes until the train leaves."

"When do you get moved into the Hogsmeade house?" Ron asked.

"We moved the last of it last night. We're ready for another school year," Harry smiled.

"We could have just walked them up to the school from Hogsmeade," Draco added, "but the twins _really_ didn't want to miss the experience of riding the Hogwarts Express with their friends, at least for this first year. And Harry is terrible at saying no. Especially to Gemma."

"She has _your_ eyes! _And_ your pout. My two weaknesses," Harry laughed, teasingly clutching his chest as if he'd been hit with a jinx.

Draco laughed and kissed his cheek.

"Stop that, no kissing on the Platform," Ron teased. "So, who's watching the summer house?"

"We hired a free house elf named Jenkins to look after it during the year. He's just going to check in on the house once a week, give it a quick clean, and let us know if anything is amiss."

"He nearly had a heart attack on the spot when Harry told him how much we'd pay him," Draco added with a grin, "we're lucky we still have a house elf to hire."

Hermione beamed at them.

"Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry!"

"There she is!" Harry caught Daisy and lifted her into a hug, then set her back on her feet. "You ready?"

"I'm ready! I can't wait!"

"All right then, go and join Gem and Scorp, okay? They have some new friends for you to meet."

"Okay!" She ran off to join her cousins and meet their many red-headed friends.

"Hello Harry," Dudley's voice was hesitant, nervous even.

Harry turned. "Hey, Big D."

"Are you ever going to call me Dudley?"

"Never," Harry grinned. "Hello, Polly, Violet."

Harry shook Dudley's wife's hand and smiled at Daisy's younger sister, who was peeking at him from behind her father's leg.

"You remember my husband, Draco?"

Draco shook their hands politely. "It's nice to see you all again. How are you getting on with all of this?"

Polly beamed at him. "We're doing alright. Dudley knew a little about this world because of Harry, but I was blindsided by all of it. It does explain a lot of things that happened when Daisy was young, though..."

"I'll be glad to get this ruddy bird out of the house. Squawks all day long, it does." Dudley held up the cage containing Daisy's white snowy owl, purchased for her by her uncle the week before. 

"What Dudley means to say is _thank you_ for giving us a way to stay in contact with her, Harry. That was very kind." Polly shot Dudley a quelling look.

Dudley cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you Harry."

A train whistle sounded.

"We'd better get this lot on the train," Ron cut in.

The entire group started moving toward the enormous scarlet train. Gemma grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him ahead. "Let's go, Daddy! We need to find a compartment with room for all of us."

Harry took up the rear of the group, pausing when he felt a tug on his hand. Scorpius was there, looking nervous. Harry bent down so he could look his son in the eye.

"Scorp? What's wrong?"

"What if I'm in Hufflepuff?"

"What?"

"Hufflepuff. Dad said he'd _leave_ if he was put in Hufflepuff! And Hagrid said that everyone says they're a lot of duffers, and—"

Harry frowned. "Scorpius. What have I said about getting into my penseive? Those memories are fine for you to see, but there are others in there that—"

"I _know_ , Dad. Sorry. But you showed them to us before when we asked about how you and Dad met, so I thought it was okay. I didn't look at anything scary, I promise. But what if I'm...?"

"Listen, Scorpius. Your dad was wrong to say that when he was eleven. He'll tell you that himself if you ask him. If the sorting hat puts you in Hufflepuff, then Hufflepuff house will gain an excellent student and wizard. Great witches and wizards can come from _any_ house at Hogwarts, trust me, I've seen it. But if you're really worried about it, the sorting hat _does_ take your wishes into account."

Scorpius's eyes widened. "It does?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah. But I wouldn't argue with it if I were you. The sorting hat knows what it's doing."

Harry glanced up at Draco and smiled. He had stopped and was waiting for them a little ways off, watching the interaction curiously.

Harry opened his arms and Scorpius allowed him to pull him into a tight hug and whisper in his ear. "You're going to _love_ Hogwarts, Scorp. It doesn't matter which house you're in. You'll make great friends and learn amazing things—You're going to be just fine, and your Dad and I will be proud of you no matter what." Comforted, Scorpius took a deep breath before pulling away.

"Ready?" Harry asked, looking him in the eye.

"Ready."

•••••

Harry crawled into bed that evening and Draco rolled over to greet him with a kiss.

"Hello, Love."

"That feast is too bloody long," Harry complained.

Draco chuckled, "You say that every year."

"And every year I mean it. I'd much rather be _here_. With you." Harry began pressing searing, open-mouthed kisses along Draco's neck.

"Harry. C'mon. Don't keep me in suspense."

Harry's eyes twinkled. "Suspense? About what?"

Draco shoved him away. "Gemma and Scorpius, you git!"

"Oh? Did you want to know something about them?"

"So help me Harry, if you don't just _tell_ me already—" Draco climbed on top of him, straddling Harry and pinning his arms above his head. "—you are going to regret it."

Harry's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed up his husband. The bright moonlight streaming through the window made his blond hair gleam and illuminated his handsome, angular face. Draco was trying to look threatening, but he wasn't very convincing to begin with, and his expression softened even more when Harry bit his lower lip and gently rolled his hips, making his husband groan and clutch at the sheets with his free hand.

" _Tell me_ ," Draco growled.

Harry smiled. "Scorpius is in Ravenclaw, Gemma is in Slytherin. The sorting hat took a long time deciding with her. They looked a bit nervous to be separated, but with combined lessons and meals they'll still see quite a lot of each other."

Draco nodded. "I'm sure they'll be fine. I'm going to miss having those two running around here." He absently traced the small constellation tattoo, his namesake, of course, on Harry's collarbone with a finger as he spoke.

"I'll miss them, too. But I can think of _one_ advantage to having them out of the house..." Harry grinned cheekily up at him.

Draco tipped his head coyly and released Harry's wrists. "Oh, yeah? And what's that?"

Harry forcefully rolled them over, and Draco shivered in anticipation.

Harry bent down and kissed him deeply, then pulled away to trail kisses along his jaw. "I can show you, if you like," Harry whispered in his ear before placing a kiss behind it, then making his way down Draco's neck.

"Yes, _please_ ," Draco moaned. Harry chuckled softly and caught his lips in another sweet kiss.

"I love you," Harry murmured.

"I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> \--MJ


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